Crossing Borders

by Robert Larnyoh (Ghana)

A leap into the unknown Ghana

I was running away from something, exhausted from the problems of being in a country where creatives were easily ununderstood, I telephoned my friend, Akosua and asked, "Down for a road trip across our borders till our money can convey us?" Without hesitation, Akosua exclaimed, "YES! Kwesi, Where should we go?" I said, "you decide," she replied, "Let's go to Lagos, I'll book our tickets." Deep down, I merely knew Akosua wouldn't pass on an experience that would enable her to recount to her online community her backpacking travels. With the excitement of an unknown adventure, I withdrew every pesewa from my account and placed in my backpack, T-shirts, a couple of shorts, and a cardigan for those cold nights. But there was a problem; my passport had expired! It dawned on me every solitary moment of each day from its expiry, but I had heard from other travellers that with a valid national ID, I could span borders within the subregion. This was the iota of hope I clung to while holding my Voters' ID card. It's 6.00 pm, and my alarm goes off after taking a nap in preparation for my journey, I hit the snooze button only to receive a call in that very second from Akosua saying "Kwes! Our coach to Lagos leaves in 2 hours, I hopped out of my bed telling Akosua, "I'll be at the bus terminal in 60 minutes. I picked my backpack while holding my bumbag, which contained my money, notepad, black pen, and headed to the Chisco Bus Terminal in Accra's most significant transport hub called Circle, where I handed my ID card and paid for my 1-way ticket to Nigeria. We launched the journey with the euphoria of exploring the cultures from our neighbouring countries while we road-tripped back to our home, with the hope that the experiences from this escapade will strengthen us in every aspect of our existence. Crossing through 6 borders over 3 countries, The transport company had taken care of the whole customs experience, and I appreciated the value of the excess monies I paid. I was in Lagos, with everyone hustling, but felt relief, although I had no plans. The next few days saw us exploring the art scene while sharing stories with people we met. Days had passed, and we were ready to explore Ouidah in Benin, We hopped into a taxi headed to Cotonou, This 5 seater vehicle had suddenly been packed with seven people and ready to move, with my puzzled face, it looked like this was the norm, and that was not about to change. We drove through the enormous potholes and bad roads en route to the Seme- Badagry border leaving Mile 2 in Lagos at about 4 pm, we psyched ourselves for a slow journey. With nearly 15 minutes to arrive at the border, the driver suddenly asked in a deep loud, Who doesn't have a passport? Knowing I had not struggled to come in, I said, "Me, Sir, I only have my Ghanaian Voter's ID card." The driver conveyed a facial expression that screamed I had signed up for trouble. I wasn't bothered as my journey here initially was a smooth one. We inched towards the border where we saw a plethora of motorcycles, the driver suddenly asked me and two others to get down from the sardine-packed vehicle and cross with one of the bikes as we didn't have official documents to be in the country. I was shocked but composed, I hopped out of the vehicle and jumped behind the motorcycle while clinching to my ID card with fears of being caught and in the thorough grasp of the laws. We rode through the gates of the two borders, crossing to the other side like locals who patrolled the area at any time that they deemed fit. I had never maintained so much composure in my life. Akosua came out of a rigorous border control check with a face that expressed, "Kwesi, how are you going to cross the rest of the borders?" With distress in my eyes and a sly grin, I said, let's enjoy the journey; when we get there, we'll cross it.