Arrival in Coco

I have arrived. After about 56 hours of straight travel, I unloaded my bags out of the back of Ed and Andrea’s Prada. After shaking Ed’s hand and wheeling my bags back to my room, Andrea offered me a drink. I downed the cold water, and began to drip sweat. My bus ride to Coco had been warm…very warm. And I had run out of water.

After leaving Casablanca, it was about a four hour flight to the capital of W.Africa. Not a single person I asked understands why the flight departs Casablanca at 11:30pm, only to arrive at 3am. Maybe the runway is too hot during the mid-day heat. Maybe so you’re so utterly, drunkenly tired that the customs officials can get the truth out of you, should they choose to interrogate you. Either way, I touched down at 3, having caught about one and half hours of sleep. (In addition to taking off at 11:30, the airline finds it necessary to wake everyone up at 12:30 to enjoy a lovely meal [and it wasn’t bad]…so sleep is limited.)

I made it through customs with relative ease. “C’est le premier foi de visiter ici?” (It’s your first time to visit here?) “Oui” (Yes) “Ah bon, bienvenue” (Oh good, welcome.) It’s not like I really want a real interrogation at customs, but I did pay about $200 to get that visa, they could at least look at it and ask me if I was smuggling drugs into the country.

So I grabbed my bags, which all made it—something I’ve learned to count as a true miracle. I had to fend off some bag handlers, but they were relatively tame compared to others I’ve encountered. For those of you who haven’t been to third-world countries, some people make a living by hanging out at the airport. They will carry your bags to your car for a tip. But if you don’t hire one right away, they will just come up to your bags and pick them up. Once they have your bag, they expect a tip, even if they don’t make it all the way to the car. (One guy laid a hand on my bag as I pushed it into the back of the Rover, and he complained loudly that I didn’t tip him for his help.) So you have to be very vigilant. “NO MERCI, NO MERCI.” In these cases, I always wait for the person picking me up to hire someone. This is one of those shocking realities that greets one just moments after setting foot into the country; unemployment is high, salaries are low, and so people will try to earn money in a variety of ways. You feel bad for them, but riots would break out if you tried to hire more than one person; so you pretty much have to ignore the barrage of insistent, very insistent offers.

Keith, the guy picking me up, took me back to his house, where I crashed for about four hours. Then I had to be up for the bus. The morning was pretty “cool”, only 37 degrees C (98.6 F). We had breakfast and took off for the bus station with all my bags. We pulled up to the bus station, and I saw my luxury liner. It looked like a brand new RV. The windows were tinted, the seats were lush; it definitely had A/C. And then…it pulled out of the station. And it was the last one from that company going to Coco that day. Early bird gets the worm. No worm for me.

So we were off to find another bus company. Somehow the mishs here in the capital know which companies are the best (and there is definitely a hierarchy). There are probably 10 different bus lines. These buses go all over the country, and many of them will continue through either to Dakar or to Abidjan. (Port cities in other countries; those bus rides would take days) So we went to the next best bus line. We purchased a ticket on Di Transport.

The bus station was like an actual bus station, with third-world flare—no computers, just carbon-copy ticket books; outdoor seating; street vendors abounding. We had seen a Di bus further down in town, close to where I watched my luxury liner pull out of its station. So Keith asked the lady at the ticket window if that was our bus, and she said yes. So we took my ticket and drove back up to that bus. We pulled next to the bus, and hopped out—trying to ignore bag handlers and people trying to sell us tickets for the bus or something. We went to a little table set up by the bus door and began talking to the driver. He immediately made it clear that I could not load my bags at this location; I would have to go back to the bus station and wait there. You have to load at the location where you buy your ticket. And then he asked us why we hadn’t just bought our ticket directly from him. (Oh, because it was so clear that we could have done that…) This just made me realize that no matter how long you’ve lived in Africa (Keith has lived in West Africa for a long time) that you just can’t always get the rhythm of things.

We drove back to the bus station, asked the lady at the window, to ensure that the bus really did come to the station. She said yes. Keith asked why she had sent us down to the bus, and she replied that she hadn’t. We asked if that was the bus, and it was. Ok, very true…

So my bus pulled in. I knew that it was not as nice as my luxury liner. But I had hopes. It looked nice enough from the outside. We loaded my bags, which were an additional cost. After talking down the price, Keith ran to grab cash for that. When he came back, he handed me a little fan, and said, “I don’t think the bus has A/C so we bought you this fan.” So my trusty fan—a piece of a plastic mat, stapled onto a stick—and I boarded the bus. The interior of the bus looked like something out the 1970s. The seats were brown, green, and orange polyester. There were tan window shades. The windows didn’t open, because at one time the bus had clearly had an air conditioning system, which was, as clearly, not functional. The heat was staggering. It was 10am and close to 40 degrees Celsius (104 F) outside, and probably 15 degrees warmer on the bus.

I sat down in an empty seat. We pulled out of the station shortly after. When we got moving, it wasn’t terrible. There were two vents in the ceiling of the bus that allowed a decent breeze. I settled in for my 7 hour bus ride. But I wasn’t prepared for the numerous stops. We had to stop for other passengers, to clear security points, to drop off random cargo at points, to deliver a battery to another broken-down bus. Each stop brought back the heat. My fan was effective until about noon. At that time the heat became so intense that moving the fan just pushed hot air into my face. The only saving grace was that I had inadvertently picked a seat next to a broken seat. So only when the bus was at max capacity did I have someone sitting next to me. (And I was so tired, I sleep intermittently the whole way, despite the heat and the bumps.)

Each stop got hotter and hotter. When we stopped people would surround the bus and try to sell us stuff—drinks, mangos, pastries, etc. I had a 1.5 liter bottle of water and some snacks that Keith had packed me. That lasted me until about the last two hours. I wanted to buy more bottled water, but the only water I saw looked like it had definitely been opened and refilled with well-water. They also sell water in pint-sized bags that you bite the corner off of and then drink. But they keep these bags cool by soaking them in well-water…all of which meant that I couldn’t buy any water.

When I finally reached Coco, I wasn’t sweating any more, and I knew I was near trouble. But I had made it. The temperature was about 45 Celsius or 115 Fahrenheit. Andrea met me at the station, introduced herself, and told me that I would be staying with her and her husband Ed (and three girls). They are leaving for furlough on Thursday of this week, and so I will be house-sitting for them for 3 months. Andrea has informed me that her goal is to never ride a bus in Africa!

Oh, and remember how I didn’t get a hotel in Casablanca? Well Ed and Andrea informed me that when you book a ticket from the States to the capital, RAM is obligated to pay for a hotel for you in Casablanca, since it is such a long lay over. There is a desk you go to, a bus to pick you up, and a paid-for room waiting for you at the airport hotel…if you are smart enough to ask. Haha…oops, that was one piece of information that would have been really helpful. Guess I missed that in the rush.

Well, regardless the Lord has been good to bring me through it all. And besides, it is character enriching. I’m here now and excited to start.