A test of patience
Today is one of those days that I feel like I can’t get out here fast enough, like I’ve officially had it with Ghana and all its eccentricities and I’ve forgotten why I fell in love with the place and the job in the first place.
I woke up cranky and have been getting crankier by the second. It’s so damn hot here that I’m dripping in sweat by 9 a.m. and smell rank an hour later. I want to burn all my clothes, they’re so smelly and stained. I’m not sleeping well because it’s so hot and all we have to cool us is one piddly fan that just pushes the hot air around. I’ve been sleeping without blankets and getting fairly bitten by the bugs because of it. Also, our foam beds have officially bought the farm. The divot in the centre of my bed is so deep it looks like a crater landed on it.
Walking down the street nearly drove me around the bend this a.m., with all the incessant honking of idiot taxi drivers and hawkers shoving things in my face and in my path while hissing “Good price, lady, you buy from me” even after I’ve said, “no thanks, not today.” A woman ran me down to buy a pineapple, then claimed she had no change for a c20,000, which is really worth only $2.50 but has become like a $20 to me, so I dropped the pineapple back on her basket and walked away. She miraculously came up with enough change that the price dropped to 40 cents, and as I walked away, I pulled out what I now consider my ace card for dealing with people who rip me off: “You know, a Christian shouldn’t lie about not having change.”
I went to the travel agent this a.m. to cancel my trip to Mali. I was fuming all the way down there, then the manager wasn’t around, so I had no where to direct all my anger. (Hence the exchange with the pineapple woman?) I booked this ticket before any of the trouble started in Cote D’Ivoire and when I picked up the ticket, there was a dummy name on it. Fine, I can come back, just wait for the phone call to say the ticket is ready. It never comes, so I drop in. Oh, the guy who issued the ticket is sick and it hasn’t been done, come back in the afternoon. Fine. I went back again on Friday to make sure that I was definitely still going, knowing full well that all travel in and out of Abidjan had been suspended, that they were, in fact, evacuating people out and there were no commercial flights in. They assured me everything was ship shape and I would get out as planned. No phone call warning me not to show up at the airport, but when I got there at 7:30 Monday morning, sure enough, the ticketing agents were astounded as to how I didn’t know that Air Ivoire wasn’t flying. When I walked through the door at the travel agent’s this a.m., the woman behind the counter visibly swallowed and said, “Oh… Um, did you show up at the airport yesterday?” I was like, uh-huh. “Oh, they called on Saturday…” Then some cock-and-bull story about how they don’t have my phone number on file. I just handed over the ticket, told them I wanted my money back – all of it, including 40,000 cedis for taxi fare and $30 US to cover the cost of my visa. We’ll see tomorrow when I pick up the cash whether that actually happens.
When I say I have officially had it, this is what I’m talking about. It drives me crazy how there is just no such thing as customer service here. Every time something goes wrong, it’s no one’s fault and no one’s responsibility to do anything about it. When something breaks, it’s not because the person was using it improperly, it was because it wasn’t powerful enough. Anita & Molly were in a cab back from Togo on Sunday and the thing broke down halfway to Accra. Molly had been stung by a bee and even though she’d jabbed herself with an Epi-pen, she needed to get to a hospital. So they flagged down a passing car, which just happened to have an obruni in it who agreed to take them for free. They had negotiated with the cab driver for c300,000 for the two-hour ride, about $45 Cdn, but since they were only half way, they decided to pay only c150,000. The driver had a fit and kept screaming at them about how they were thieves and it wasn’t his fault that his car broke down.
The frustrating thing is that when things go wrong, it really doesn’t impact the proprietor, it affects the customer. And rather than viewing customer service as part of the cost of doing business, the proprietor will do all he can to heap the problems, burdens, extra costs, fees, taxes and service charges on the client. When I arrived at the airport yesterday, the guy was incredulous that I’d even come, berated me for choosing such a shoddy travel agent, then told me there was nothing he could do. Case closed.
This happens all the time here, in fact on Sunday, I was told by the guy at the pool that it was my own fault I had to drip dry because I’d neglected to bring a towel, not his fault that the washing machine was broken for two days and they hadn’t bothered to make alternate arrangements. Nevermind that I’ve already paid for the privilege of swimming in the pool and dripping dry; there’s no way he’d even consider refunding some of the cost. “I’ve done my best, ma’am” and by that I mean I’ve done nothing at all and will continue to do nothing at all because it suits me.
I think we, as reporters, experience this more than most because we’re always asking people to do more than what they usually do during the day. We’re asking them to make time for an interview, to take us somewhere, to explain something, to find a document or other information or link us with someone they know who does X or Y. More often than not I’m told that anything outside the norm is impossible, when really, it can be done if one person does more than just sit on their bum all day. I’ve run into this so much in interviews that I’ve actually managed to develop patience – yes, it’s true. A form of it, anyway.
People tell me all the time that it’s impossible to get that interview, it’s impossible to get that information, it’s impossible to do whatever. If I just stand or sit there and let them know I’m not going away until they find a way, it usually gets done. When we were up north arranging things for Guinea worm, three different guys told us there was no Guinea worm, the villages would be too far to go, there were no vehicles, they were too busy, yadda yadda. Kristy, JHR’s photoj and my roommate, was about ready to bust a head-pipe, she just didn’t understand how there could be NO WAY. I waited and we chatted about Tamale and the political situation and the weather and eventually a woman walked in and said there was an outbreak about three hours outside the city, they were taking the regional director on Wednesday and if we could be at the office by 6 a.m., they’d be happy to take us.
So, at the airport I did my usual thing. I just stood there. I told him that I was from Canada, that this sort of thing happens all the time there because of the weather and that my understanding is that the airline is still responsible for getting the passengers to their destination because we’ve paid them money to do that. He told me that weather is an act of God, but this skirmish in Cote D’Ivoire is an act of war and not his fault or the fault of his airline. “We’re not the government, we’re not fighting this war.” I said, well, dude, I’m just a passenger. I’m not fighting it either! He begrudgingly agreed to look into other flights and after the third time hearing “There’s nothing I can do, ma’am, I’ve done my best,” I really, really lost it and when I say “lost it,” I don’t mean in the age-old torrent of tears kinda way, I mean in the cold-and-detached-to-the-point-of-creepy, I’m-about-to-kill-everyone-in-this-office-and-maybe-the-people-out-in-the-hallway-too kinda way. He backed down considerably, although not going so far as to apologize, but admitting he may have “misspoke.” I still left feeling like I wanted to punch something or someone.
I cancelled the trip thinking that maybe the conflict in Cote D’Ivoire was a blessing in disguise, since I wasn’t really prepared to go, hadn’t really packed properly, hadn’t hammered out an very sound itinerary, hadn’t planned my flights or booked tickets to get around the country. I didn’t have enough money changed, didn’t have the right clothes, hadn’t bought any water purification tablets and was generally very uncertain about how things were going to go on the ground.
Also, I just felt like 12 days really wouldn’t do it justice. So I’ve decided instead to go after Rhonda leaves in February and just to continue in one giant loop around West Africa over the following 10 weeks, taking in Burkina Faso, more of Mali, Mauritania, Senegal, the Gambia and depending on the political situation, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia and Cote D’Ivoire. (Just kidding, mom, I’ll cut it short at Guinea if they’re not at already at war.)
I think it’ll be both tough and very rewarding. Getting into Burkina, Mali and Mauritania are pretty remote and not many people get there, so I’m looking forward to a little bit of off-the-beaten track stuff, although it may again test my new found “patience.”
So, I’ll be back to Canada by the spring and probably back at the office by the second week of May. And that will be the real test of my patience.
I woke up cranky and have been getting crankier by the second. It’s so damn hot here that I’m dripping in sweat by 9 a.m. and smell rank an hour later. I want to burn all my clothes, they’re so smelly and stained. I’m not sleeping well because it’s so hot and all we have to cool us is one piddly fan that just pushes the hot air around. I’ve been sleeping without blankets and getting fairly bitten by the bugs because of it. Also, our foam beds have officially bought the farm. The divot in the centre of my bed is so deep it looks like a crater landed on it.
Walking down the street nearly drove me around the bend this a.m., with all the incessant honking of idiot taxi drivers and hawkers shoving things in my face and in my path while hissing “Good price, lady, you buy from me” even after I’ve said, “no thanks, not today.” A woman ran me down to buy a pineapple, then claimed she had no change for a c20,000, which is really worth only $2.50 but has become like a $20 to me, so I dropped the pineapple back on her basket and walked away. She miraculously came up with enough change that the price dropped to 40 cents, and as I walked away, I pulled out what I now consider my ace card for dealing with people who rip me off: “You know, a Christian shouldn’t lie about not having change.”
I went to the travel agent this a.m. to cancel my trip to Mali. I was fuming all the way down there, then the manager wasn’t around, so I had no where to direct all my anger. (Hence the exchange with the pineapple woman?) I booked this ticket before any of the trouble started in Cote D’Ivoire and when I picked up the ticket, there was a dummy name on it. Fine, I can come back, just wait for the phone call to say the ticket is ready. It never comes, so I drop in. Oh, the guy who issued the ticket is sick and it hasn’t been done, come back in the afternoon. Fine. I went back again on Friday to make sure that I was definitely still going, knowing full well that all travel in and out of Abidjan had been suspended, that they were, in fact, evacuating people out and there were no commercial flights in. They assured me everything was ship shape and I would get out as planned. No phone call warning me not to show up at the airport, but when I got there at 7:30 Monday morning, sure enough, the ticketing agents were astounded as to how I didn’t know that Air Ivoire wasn’t flying. When I walked through the door at the travel agent’s this a.m., the woman behind the counter visibly swallowed and said, “Oh… Um, did you show up at the airport yesterday?” I was like, uh-huh. “Oh, they called on Saturday…” Then some cock-and-bull story about how they don’t have my phone number on file. I just handed over the ticket, told them I wanted my money back – all of it, including 40,000 cedis for taxi fare and $30 US to cover the cost of my visa. We’ll see tomorrow when I pick up the cash whether that actually happens.
When I say I have officially had it, this is what I’m talking about. It drives me crazy how there is just no such thing as customer service here. Every time something goes wrong, it’s no one’s fault and no one’s responsibility to do anything about it. When something breaks, it’s not because the person was using it improperly, it was because it wasn’t powerful enough. Anita & Molly were in a cab back from Togo on Sunday and the thing broke down halfway to Accra. Molly had been stung by a bee and even though she’d jabbed herself with an Epi-pen, she needed to get to a hospital. So they flagged down a passing car, which just happened to have an obruni in it who agreed to take them for free. They had negotiated with the cab driver for c300,000 for the two-hour ride, about $45 Cdn, but since they were only half way, they decided to pay only c150,000. The driver had a fit and kept screaming at them about how they were thieves and it wasn’t his fault that his car broke down.
The frustrating thing is that when things go wrong, it really doesn’t impact the proprietor, it affects the customer. And rather than viewing customer service as part of the cost of doing business, the proprietor will do all he can to heap the problems, burdens, extra costs, fees, taxes and service charges on the client. When I arrived at the airport yesterday, the guy was incredulous that I’d even come, berated me for choosing such a shoddy travel agent, then told me there was nothing he could do. Case closed.
This happens all the time here, in fact on Sunday, I was told by the guy at the pool that it was my own fault I had to drip dry because I’d neglected to bring a towel, not his fault that the washing machine was broken for two days and they hadn’t bothered to make alternate arrangements. Nevermind that I’ve already paid for the privilege of swimming in the pool and dripping dry; there’s no way he’d even consider refunding some of the cost. “I’ve done my best, ma’am” and by that I mean I’ve done nothing at all and will continue to do nothing at all because it suits me.
I think we, as reporters, experience this more than most because we’re always asking people to do more than what they usually do during the day. We’re asking them to make time for an interview, to take us somewhere, to explain something, to find a document or other information or link us with someone they know who does X or Y. More often than not I’m told that anything outside the norm is impossible, when really, it can be done if one person does more than just sit on their bum all day. I’ve run into this so much in interviews that I’ve actually managed to develop patience – yes, it’s true. A form of it, anyway.
People tell me all the time that it’s impossible to get that interview, it’s impossible to get that information, it’s impossible to do whatever. If I just stand or sit there and let them know I’m not going away until they find a way, it usually gets done. When we were up north arranging things for Guinea worm, three different guys told us there was no Guinea worm, the villages would be too far to go, there were no vehicles, they were too busy, yadda yadda. Kristy, JHR’s photoj and my roommate, was about ready to bust a head-pipe, she just didn’t understand how there could be NO WAY. I waited and we chatted about Tamale and the political situation and the weather and eventually a woman walked in and said there was an outbreak about three hours outside the city, they were taking the regional director on Wednesday and if we could be at the office by 6 a.m., they’d be happy to take us.
So, at the airport I did my usual thing. I just stood there. I told him that I was from Canada, that this sort of thing happens all the time there because of the weather and that my understanding is that the airline is still responsible for getting the passengers to their destination because we’ve paid them money to do that. He told me that weather is an act of God, but this skirmish in Cote D’Ivoire is an act of war and not his fault or the fault of his airline. “We’re not the government, we’re not fighting this war.” I said, well, dude, I’m just a passenger. I’m not fighting it either! He begrudgingly agreed to look into other flights and after the third time hearing “There’s nothing I can do, ma’am, I’ve done my best,” I really, really lost it and when I say “lost it,” I don’t mean in the age-old torrent of tears kinda way, I mean in the cold-and-detached-to-the-point-of-creepy, I’m-about-to-kill-everyone-in-this-office-and-maybe-the-people-out-in-the-hallway-too kinda way. He backed down considerably, although not going so far as to apologize, but admitting he may have “misspoke.” I still left feeling like I wanted to punch something or someone.
I cancelled the trip thinking that maybe the conflict in Cote D’Ivoire was a blessing in disguise, since I wasn’t really prepared to go, hadn’t really packed properly, hadn’t hammered out an very sound itinerary, hadn’t planned my flights or booked tickets to get around the country. I didn’t have enough money changed, didn’t have the right clothes, hadn’t bought any water purification tablets and was generally very uncertain about how things were going to go on the ground.
Also, I just felt like 12 days really wouldn’t do it justice. So I’ve decided instead to go after Rhonda leaves in February and just to continue in one giant loop around West Africa over the following 10 weeks, taking in Burkina Faso, more of Mali, Mauritania, Senegal, the Gambia and depending on the political situation, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia and Cote D’Ivoire. (Just kidding, mom, I’ll cut it short at Guinea if they’re not at already at war.)
I think it’ll be both tough and very rewarding. Getting into Burkina, Mali and Mauritania are pretty remote and not many people get there, so I’m looking forward to a little bit of off-the-beaten track stuff, although it may again test my new found “patience.”
So, I’ll be back to Canada by the spring and probably back at the office by the second week of May. And that will be the real test of my patience.
posted by Palmer in Africa at 9:42 AM
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