How "To Go" in Togo

"Roads are in appaling conditions, and getting around without your own transport requires the patience of a saint and the determination of a fighter." – Lonely Planet West Africa guide book on Togo's transportation options

In my last post, I mentioned transportation in Togo as one of the reasons why PC considers this country to be one of the hardest to serve in. Now, I’d like to elaborate a little more on the transportation options in Togo and how I get around from place to place. When going somewhere, I essentially have four options–I can walk, ride my bike, take a moto, or get in a bush taxi.

I enjoy walking. I think I get this from my mom (hi mom!), although she likes to walk for fun and I need a destination. Around Tandjouaré, this is mainly how I get around. It’s rainy season right now so everything is green and it’s almost harvest time so the corn stalks are as tall as me or higher. Despite Tandjouaré being a “big” village, it’s very rural, hilly and spread out, thus it takes a while to get anywhere. The walk to my marché is about 15 minutes. I take these paths that wind in and out of family compounds. They’re wide enough to take a bike or moto through but some parts get pretty rocky. I seem to take a different way every time I go or come back from the marché. Using a cell phone tower as my reference point, I seem to navigate the maze quite well. I stop along the way and saluer (greet) the people I pass. I met a man yesterday who used to teach English at a local school and was 82 years old! That’s pretty impressive, as the average Togolese man lives to be 60.

Biking. Before coming to Togo, I was not a fan of biking. I’m still not, but I’ve come to find it to be a convenient way to get around, plus it allows me to fare le sport (exercise). When I go visit my neighbor Assibi (a GEE PCV in the next town over) or go to the bigger marché in Bombaouka (the next town over) I ride my bike. I’ve also taken it to Dapaong, which is about 20k and takes about 1 hour 45 minutes. PC has supplied us with nice mountain bikes and taught us how to take care of it (such as repair a flat tire or fix a broken chain). We have helmets that we must wear, which are a good safety precaution but PCVs are the only people in Togo who wear bike helmets. My chain fell off once while riding around Dapaong and a man came over to help me put it back on. As I was leaving I heard him tell his friends “Elle est avec le Corps de la Paix”, so it definitely makes us identifiable.

Moto-ing. Most Togolese walk or bike, but those wealthy enough buy a moto. I always smile to myself when I see women on their own moto, as most moto drivers are men. A woman on a moto is a sign that she’s a badass. When I say “moto”, I’m referring to a variety of two-wheeled machines–street bikes, dirt bikes, mopeds, etc. As PCVs, we’re not allowed to actually drive the motos, although I’ve heard tales of rebellious PCVs in other countries who secretly buy their own moto… While Togolese law states that helmets are required, the only enforcement of this that I’ve seen was a piece of paper posted at the gendarme (police) station in Bambaouka. Before being issued our moto helmets, we were required to take a moto safety class. It taught us how to mount a moto (swing your right leg around from the left side so as not to burn yourself on the exhaust pipe), hold on to the rack behind you (as putting you hands anywhere near the driver would signal possible sexual intentions), and it’s okay to tell them to slow down or stop if you feel like your life is in danger.

Few countries allow PCVs to ride motos, and the fact that Togo is one that does proves how bad the transportation system here is. Without them, we would have a very difficult time getting from place to place. So how do you “get a moto”? It’s easy. You basically just have to be on a populated road while holding your helmet and magically 5 men with bikes will appear. I have a friend who hastily jumped on the back of a guys moto and directed him to her destination only to find out when he dropped her off and refused payment that he was just a guy on a moto who had nicely given her a lift. Around village, a moto ride costs between 100-300 CFA (roughly $.20-.60). PCVs in Savannes have formed good relations with some moto drivers who will come directly to your house or the workstation and are reliable and safe drivers. They also happen to be Muslim. Muslim moto drivers are preferred because they don’t drink and therefore, theoretically, should be sober but that isn’t always true.

The Togolese are pros at hauling things on motos and bikes. Seriously. Whether it’s a family of five, a 20-kilo bag (or 3) of grain or a cow, they’ll find a way to transport it. It takes mad skill to secure everything onto the bikes–a skill I hope to master during my time here–and you rarely see things fall.

Bush taxis are the most popular form of transportation for long distances, i.e. more than between a few villages. These are cars where seats are rented out. However, the drivers have a different idea of what constitutes a seat. Essentially, it’s however many people, babies, bags and animals you can cram into open airspace and not suffocate. You catch a bush taxi by flagging one down on the Route that’s going in the right direction, or, in the regional capitals, by going to a gare routière (a station).

Last weekend, I wanted to leave Dapaong but I had my bike and it looked like it was about to rain (yeah, and I was lazy) so I decided to take a bush taxi. I went to the gare and was told a car had just left but I may be able to catch it. So I biked further until the next gare and was again told it had left but we could see in the distance that it had stopped for gas. I quickly rode up to it and catch the driver just as he put the car into gear. I asked if there was room for me and my bike. A stupid question–of course there was room! There were only three full-grown men in the front and three women each with a kid (one breastfeeding) in the back of a economy sized 5 seat car. The driver threw my bike on top of the car and shoved my bag in the hatchback trunk, which already couldn’t fully close and was being held down by a 100 CFA ($.20) bungee cord. More gas was needed so I watched as they poured a liter from a glass bottle and closed the tank with what looked like a ball of duct tape. I climbed in the front seat through the driver’s side and was instructed by the two men to my right to put one leg on either side of the shifter. Yes, the car was a manual and yes, every time the driver needed to shift he had to reach between my legs. The road between Dapaong and Tandjouaré is pretty bad–lots of potholes–so he had to shift a lot as he sped up, braked and swerved to avoid them. We got pretty cozy and by the time we reached my destination, I’d garnered a marriage proposal. I’d also like to mention that young boys try to earn some money by “repairing” the holes and begging for tips. I say “repairing” but really all they do is shovel a dirt/sand mixture into the hole and pile it about 6 inches above the ground, creating a reverse pothole (or speed bump?) and probably speeding up the erosion of the road. The driver had to spot the holes and watch for oncoming trucks from behind a cracked windshield. When he hit a pothole, he’d look at his cracked side mirror to make sure nothing had fallen out of the back. The only mirror/window fully intact was the rear view mirror, which was useless as the back was piled too high with stuff to see anything. Just another day of travel in Togo…

The newest and most convenient form of travel is the post bus. La poste began offering a daily bus route that extends the length of the country. You buy a seat (your own, personal, cushioned seat) and can get on or off at any of the post offices along the Route Internationale where the bus stops to deliver mail. It even runs on Sunday. Theoretically, it’s a good option, but I’ve heard stories of the bus breaking down and the voyage taking 15 hours. My one experience with it was pleasant enough. We were, however, stopped on the Route for a little over an hour because President Faure’s family (he was not part of the group) was leaving Kara and the motorcade got blocked-off access on the route to the airport and back. That meant we had to wait as the plane loaded and took off. The plane entranced the Togolese. Air travel is rare and only a handful of flights leave and come into the Togo’s capital daily, let along it’s second largest airport. Planes also just don’t seem to have a reason to fly in Togo’s air space.