We walked leisurely across the wooden bridge towards a very small, forested island a distance from the private hotel’s beachfront. We were the only people wandering in this small part of Equatorial Guinea. The ocean waves crashed against the beams below and we could see the silhouette of Mt. Cameroon on the distant mainland.
Our driver and guide, Santos, led me and my friend Dannielle onto the island where we began reading boards that described the surrounding flora and fauna, insects and birds. The air became increasingly humid, almost palpable and buzzing with mosquitoes as we strolled deeper into the forest. Suddenly, we realized that that the mosquitoes were not just buzzing but viciously biting. One look at Dannielle’s legs confirmed our next course of action: We quite literally ran off the island.
Hopping over thick tree stumps and dodging low branches, we hastened back onto the bridge, our palms continuously slapping mosquitoes and exposed skin. Our pace slowed as we got closer to the beach, a great distance away from the threat.
We took deep breaths, nervously laughed and self-assessed. Dannielle’s skin unfortunately bore many red and raised bumps. I picked off some stray mosquitoes from her black dress as Santos sauntered towards us across the bridge, unscathed. We glanced along the shoreline and saw another figure approaching us: an older man with white hair, striding with walking sticks. The man, who we later learned was a visiting doctor from Spain, walked up to us with a side-smile, sorry eyes and sighed, “No one warned you about the mosquitoes?”
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If I ever felt like I was in a movie, it was then.
Enters seemingly tranquil island.
Camera stalls on the scene for five seconds.
Suddenly exits flailing and screaming pursued by swarm of insects to the curious eyes of a random doctor who laments our misfortune.
(Mosquitoes were very much harmed in the making of this movie.)
Despite encounters with nature’s wild and humorous side, I’m thankful to have been bit by the much friendlier travel bug which took me on some fun travels through West and Central Africa this past summer alongside quality friends.
One of my closest friends, Dannielle, talked about visiting me in Benin ever since I received my Peace Corps acceptance. Given our past travel experiences together – the Dominican Republic, Spain, New York, South Carolina, Miami, Dubai and counting – I was unsurprised and absolutely elated to hug her at the airport in Cotonou, Benin this past July. In twelve days, we completed a very ambitious itinerary from Benin to Togo to Equatorial Guinea and back to Benin.
Stop 1: My Village
We didn’t waste time jumping into our schedule, taking a 7am bus up to my village the day after her arrival. We walked around, greeted neighbors and friends, visited the monkey site, and got drinks at the top floor of a hostel while watching the sun set. Dannielle got her hair braided, we visited the lake in Bassila, went back to my village to visit the market, greeted more neighbors. After several long phone calls, it felt good to provide more context to the place I called home.
Stop 2: Kara, Togo
We took a bus two hours north to the city of Djougou, Benin and found two zemidjans willing to take us the 63 kilometers across the border to Kara, Togo. Our passports were stamped at the border and we continued our zem ride through winding hills until we reached the city. We had visited Kara at a good time: our arrival marked the beginning of Evala, a coming of age ceremony for 16-18-year-old boys that involves wrestling competitions and lots of food and drinks. We took taxis to the kick-off ceremony at the Togolese President’s home village of Pya which proved to be a huge fête.
Stop 3: Lomé, Togo
Next: A six-hour bus ride south to Lomé, the capital of Togo. The air conditioned bus and significantly better roads than those in my area of Benin were very appreciated. We visited the beach, marveled at the long coastline, bought cookies, people watched, and prepped for our travels to EG the next day.
Stop 4: Malabo, Equatorial Guinea
Dannielle’s personal goal to visit all Spanish speaking countries in the world brought us to the only Spanish-speaking country in Africa: Equatorial Guinea. EG is divided into three regions: Bioko island in the Gulf of Guinea, Annobón island just south of the equator, and the mainland region called Río Muni bordered by Cameroon in the north and Gabon in the south and east. We flew Ceiba International from Lomé to Malabo, the capital located on Bioko island.
It was beautiful. Ceiba trees, tall and magnificent, dotted the paved roads. Large stately buildings from banks to a United Nations branch clearly showed that this was the capital. Downtown Malabo showed a blend of colonial and modern-day architecture – brightly colored, baroque-inspired buildings blocks down from a Hard Rock café. With our limited wifi access, we did more research about this region and asked lots of questions, mainly to Santos – our driver courtesy of the hotel and soon after, our guide. We found that Malabo likely looked very different from other parts of the island or the mainland that are farther from capital resources. Though we knew that EG was only starting to increase their tourism industry and that we were visiting during the weekday, we wondered why areas of the city were rather empty and quiet. We later discovered that the country’s population density was rather small at 125 people per sq. mile and found ourselves jokingly exclaiming “People!” if we saw more than five passersby. Santos and one of his friends raised curious but appreciative eyebrows at our explanation that we were visiting EG simply to learn about another part of the world, a plainly rare concept. Dannielle, a Spanish teacher, served as the primary translator, my Spanish rusty from years of French and her Spanish beautiful and clear as the coastal waters. When we tired of asking questions about EG’s infrastructure and populace, we settled into vacation mode: naps, smoothies, pool-side deep chats, gratitude for the privilege to travel far and wide, randomly and intentionally.
Stop 5: Cotonou and Ouidah, Benin
We flew back to Lomé from Malabo and traveled by road back to Cotonou. The last couple days were spent visiting the city of Ouidah – a historical city known for its role in the African slave trade and its prominent voudoun presence – and checking out sites in Cotonou from the bookstore to the Italian restaurant Ci Gusta, a volunteer fave. It wasn’t long before I found myself hugging Dannielle at the airport again, now to say goodbye until the next adventure.
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The next few weeks were filled with recovery from travel fatigue, a couple projects and lots of GRE studying as I prepped for another trip in mid-August to Ghana with my wonderful friend, Ginnie! As fellow UF Gators and PC Benin volunteers, Ginnie and I were prepared to be super flexible, treat ourselves but also ball out on a budget in PCV fashion, and ultimately gain perspective on more of the people and places of West Africa. We planned to spend a week in the bustling capital city of Accra and the historic city of Cape Coast. However, before we explored, we had to navigate traveling across two borders by taxi and I had to take the GRE. Once we hopped these hurdles, vacation was the move and the mood.
We timed our visit rather well: The annual street art festival, Chale Wote, was taking place that week in Accra. The Ghanaian government has also designated 2019 as “The Year of Return” to commemorate 400 years since the first enslaved Africans arrived in Jamestown, Virginia, USA. Accra and Cape Coast were therefore filled with African Americans, people from all over the Diaspora, and other tourists eager to soak in the art, culture, history and blackness of Ghana.
It was beautifully overwhelming. We underwent mild culture shock as we suddenly found ourselves in the city filled with Ubers and malls and supermarkets. Nevertheless, we found solace in small similarities to our lives in Benin such as welcoming mamas and haggling in the market for the best deal. Our hostels introduced us to interesting people from all walks of life, many of them artists ready to showcase their work throughout the week at Chale Wote events.
In Accra, we ate well (yay fried chicken and Cote d’Ivorien food!), explored the mall, strolled down Oxford Street, learned how to head wrap with the most colorful of fabrics, explored the night life, and dressed up for the Saturday night Chale Wote festival.
In Cape Coast, we enjoyed our stay at the Baobab House established as a social enterprise to support children at the non-profit Baobab School. We haggled at the market, enjoyed sunsets, walked across the floating bridge above expanses of forest at Kakum National Park, took a solemn and important tour of Cape Coast Castle, and made friends with Americans in town for “The Year of Return.”
Ghana gave us life. I felt inspired by the embracing of all hair textures and styles – long braids, cornrows, twists, afros, beaded ends, bantu knots, shaved sides, head wraps and more. The fashion scene was insane and I made a mental note to work on my wardrobe asap. I left with a newfound love for ginger and black soap. We lamented the sites that we could not visit during such a rushed stay; however, as we munched on our ginger cookies during the taxi rides back to Benin, we knew that we’d have to come back. There’s no escaping the travel bug.
