25th April 2005. Aflao, Ghana/Togo border.

We arrived three days ago to find the border closed. The Togo elections were yesterday and we think the border will open tomorrow.
Quite hungry now as the restaurant in the hotel only serves food in the evening and the only other place to eat in Aflao serves cat. I had some meat on a stick from a roadside stall this afternoon. Couldn't say what it was, but it definitely wasn't chicken, pork or beef.

We had an encounter on the way with Sergeant Amusing of the Ghana Police Service. It didn't seem to be going too well initially, when, on finding out we were British, he said "Ah well, you are our colonial masters."
I could sense a fine, perhaps based on the heinous infraction of Conducting A Motor Vehicle With Top Button Unfastened, but again I was wrong. He followed up with the observation that Germans are "tall and very thick" (he may have meant strong), while British people are "short, like Tony Blair". By the end he was imploring us to come and live in Ghana. Nice!
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Gin is $2.50 a bottle here. Must leave soon...
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My front tyre is ready for the knacker's yard, various pieces of the bike are held on with duct tape and cable ties, and the handlebars bend to the left. Mechanically however it's as good as new. As far as I can tell...
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Unhappily, the default sauce in Ghana is called "Shito".
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26th April 2005. Aflao.

The border is still closed on the Togo side, apparently to stop Togolese people fleeing violent riots. The election results are out today. It's no big surprise that the son of Africa's longest serving ruler (30+ years) is "elected". We take a stroll to the border in the morning. Lome, Togo's capital, is 2km from the border. A huge column of black smoke is rising from that general direction.

27th April 2005. Aflao.

The border is still closed *sigh*. It may or may not open tomorrow. We are told this every day. Rioting and attacks on people and businesses who seem to be French continue (due to Chirac's friendship with the dodgy dead Prez and his son, the dodgy new Prez.) We can't even find out if the motorbike shop - which has much needed tyres, is open as the phone lines have been cut. The last straw is that Doug's Ghana visa has run out, so we've decided to head back to Accra and wait two weeks to see if the situation improves. Bah! Hate going backwards. But at least we can have a game of darts in Champs...

29th April 2005. Accra.

It'll be no major hardship to stay here a fortnight. I even managed to get a nicer room at the same hotel for the same price (Four and a half quid a night). Thunder rumbles, rain pours, humidity briefly drops. Them rains are coming.
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It's happy hour at Champs tonight - half price Star from five to eight. It's essential to be at the bar, ordering, at 4.59pm. Wise men take an early night at 8pm. Even wiser men buy a four pint pitcher at 7.59. It doesn't do to feel too ropey on Saturday though, as there's live Premiership football on the big screens from midday.

10th May 2005. Accra.

Perusing the specials board at my favourite lunch spot, I see "Gizzards Provencale" is available today. After careful reflection I opt for the club sandwich.