TRAVEL. ADVENTURE. AFRICA

My First Trip Abroad Took Me to West Africa During the Ebola Endemic

Times were different and I was young

I just landed from a long but relaxed flight, made it through the Ebola checkpoint, turned away about 87 very friendly Ghanaian men and explained to them that I am indeed capable of carrying my own luggage, and told just as many that I don’t need anyone either to drive me anywhere. And of course, I did all of this with a big smile on my face.

But let’s slow down a bit. It was October 2014, there was an Ebola outbreak in West Africa and I was starting my first journey outside the European continent. Despite warnings from all around and everyone who knew all about Africa (of course just from the news) better than me, I still went.

I had planned on working as a volunteer in Ghana for almost half a year before I was heading east for a travel adventure through several eastern and southern African countries.

All on my own. Of course. I had just finished my bachelor’s degree in education, I was 21 years old and there was surely nobody and nothing who and what was able to tell me what I was supposed to be doing in life and what not.

Not even my mom could stop me.

I was flying with Ethiopian Airways and it did not make any difference to me if the stewardess was talking English or Ethiopian. I understood zero of what was said on the flight.

To add to this situation, yes I had English in school and no I couldn’t really say more than my name. I never put any importance in learning the language but instead had French high on my priority list throughout my high school years. I was fluent in French but that wouldn’t help me much since I was going to Ghana. An English speaking country surrounded by nothing but French-speaking countries.

Fortunately for me, the airport in Addis Abeba wasn’t very big and I could get through it without needing to understand announcements or understanding any of the signs written out.

My second leg of the flight from Ethiopia to Ghana was in the same sized plane as the first one outbound from Frankfurt but with one major difference.

It was empty.

Like really empty. I’ve only had been on two flights prior to this journey and those were short-distance flights within Europe but this was like heaven to me. Obviously, the Ebola epidemic kept many travelers away from West Africa (if not even Africa in general) and therefore I was one of a few people planning to go to Ghana.

Ghana was and stayed Ebola-free throughout the epidemic.

The plane landed in Accra. We had to walk across the airfield from the plane to the airport building. And before we were allowed to enter the airport I had to show already my yellow passport. The vaccination pass. Without a yellow fewer vaccination nobody would be allowed to enter the country.

Just a few meters into the building I was then confronted with the epidemic. A large signboard was warning us of the disease and telling us to disinfect our hands right here.

Then there was the first queue of many.

Two women with face masks on (back then something foreign to me and most others) were sitting behind a screen. One by one we were allowed to walk past. After our body temperatures had been read.

I was allowed to go through even though my nose was shining red on the screen.

I still hadn’t shown my passport to anyone.

Just before I was lining up in the next queue a man came toward me asking for my yellow fever vaccine. Again. After I showed him my vaccination book I was allowed to proceed.

I reached the counter and handed in the stack of papers I had prepared. Before the officer was even looking into my papers he said “you look so beautiful”.

I was taken by surprise. No officer in Germany, especially not an immigration officer, would ever give me a compliment like this one. Or even smile at me at all.

I was a bit confused, then realizing not many white women were arriving at this airport and smiled back while thanking him for the compliment. But instead of filling in the paperwork, he kept on going. If I had a boyfriend and since I denied this question I received his phone number together with the visa stamp in my passport.

Different world, different behaviors.

And then I finally made it to my luggage. My two backpacks have done already a few rounds on the luggage belt before I managed to pick them up. And again, these friendly locals. I had to explain myself once more.

Yes, I do recognize my own luggage and no, you are not driving my trolley with the bags.

While pushing the trolley through the labyrinth of this airport another officer stopped me. Until now I have no idea what he wanted from me. He asked me everything. I answered his questions partwise hesitant partwise convinced and was eventually allowed to proceed.

I wasn’t done yet. As I pushed through the sliding door to get out of the airport building five Ghanian men jumped onto me while trying to take me with their taxi to some hotel or I don’t know where.

I didn’t say more than a very clear but friendly “no thank you” and the first ones gave up already.

I know I shouldn’t look like I was seeking help but how I am supposed to find the person standing around with my name on it without searching for it?

So of course, another crowd of men ran towards me offering me a taxi ride. Now, I explained I was getting picked up but as soon as they realized there was nobody around to pick me up they came back.

This was obvious.

And how do they like to say? Europeans have watches and Africans have time. I knew that. And that is exactly why I left my watch at home. I took my bags and placed them in a corner. It was time to show patience.

After a while, a guy in uniform approached me to tell me I need to call my organization or nobody will ever come to fetch me. Really? But they confirmed my flight and said they would be waiting here.

This guy even offered me his phone so I could call. I didn’t understand much of what the person on the other side had said but 10 minutes later someone arrived to pick me up.

We wanted to bring the luggage to the car as it started pouring down rain. I was pushed back under the roof of the airport building.

“We wait.”

10 minutes later the rain slowed down and we headed toward the car. The wait wasn’t worth it because I got soaking wet anyhow but it doesn’t matter. I’m chatting with the driver all the way into the city and explaining to him why I am 21 years old and still not married.

Yes, more culture clashes ahead. I knew this was only the beginning. And I might need to change my story or at least the answers. But I would only learn that months later…

I made it. I arrived at the hostel, took a refreshing cold shower, and was ready for some food.

“Africa changes you forever, like nowhere on earth. Once you have been there, you will never be the same.” — Brian Jackman

This was only the beginning. Not only of that trip but of the change in my life. I wouldn’t leave the continent for another 5 years. And even in the years after that, I always returned. And even now, far away. Africa is still in my heart.

I have written a book about my months in Ghana. It is available on Amazon but so far only in German. I have published a few posts in English already and I’m working on more episodes of it.

The original of this post has been written in a journal the evening after my arrival. I wrote everything down as it came to my mind. This is a translation of the original.

Read more about my adventures in Ghana:

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