Theme: What should take 10 minutes will take 45-60.
On Friday, I had our driver Jeeves (aka Richard) take me to the customs department at Kotoka airport. There's a man standing at the entrance who charges 3 cedis to lift open a gate. Surprisingly, he has change for a 5. We drive around amongst a bunch of customs "offices" which are converted storage containers. The area is pretty deserted and I think (foolishly) "wow, I must be one of the first people here, I'll get through this pretty quickly." I did get out of there pretty quickly, because they don't work on Fridays.
Safe bet they aren't working Saturday or Sunday - so not even going to attempt. At this point the reader may wonder why our protagonist didn't try calling?
I'll stop here to note that phone technology here is equivalent to the 1950s. There's no call waiting, no voicemail/message machine and no automated systems. You call, it rings, someone picks up. Or, you call, it rings forever, you lose patience and give up.
Monday. Round 2. Gameplan: go in the afternoon. Taxi drivers love tie-wearing Obroni's like me, so I had no trouble finding a taxi to make me the 200 yards from my office to the customs offices.
Why not walk?
1) No sidewalks
2) It's hot, like Africa hot.
We drive up to the gate (where Mr. 3 Cedi still stands) and encounter a handful of people running to the cab asking if I'm getting a package. I pay Mr. 3 Cedi to lift the gate again and as we drive around the make-shift "offices," one particularly enterprising man chased the taxi. This time the place was swarmed with people. "Now this is more like Africa." It turns out the enthusiastic gentleman is named Francis and he is donning a name badge that looks official enough. He might actually be there to help me and not steal my packaged cereals and/or passport and/or money.
"Do you have a copy of your ID card?"
"I've got my passport"
"Let's go make a photocopy"
We walk behind the "offices" into a small shaded opening where there are 3 guys sleeping next to a copy machines. Francis yells at one of them, he gets up and makes a copy of my passport for me. I give Francis says to give him "some coins". I think "Gladly, these things are heavy and pretty much worthless from a value perspective." I give him about 1 cedi, and again, shockingly, get change. Good, more coins!
With my photocopy and other paperwork in tow, I follow Francis behind a barbed wire fence and past some well armed guards. Because, nothing needs protecting more than my Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Crackers - Cheddar Flavored.
Inside is pretty much what you would expect a customs office in Africa to look like. Boxes strewn about everywhere with half the people laying on top of them resting. More uniformed people are inside.
Francis and I walk past some of the stacks of boxes and down a narrow gap in the cardboard jungle to the UPS office. Well, Francis thus far has earned a tip and hasn't attempted to scam me.
Unfortunately, the only guy that works at the UPS office is on break. So Francis and I stand around and more people come by looking for Mr. UPS. I can't understand them, but based on context and volume, I like to think everyone was saying "Where the f*** is Mr. UPS? Tell him to get off his break and get his ass over here!"
To kill the time I start talking with Francis asking about how this all works. Turns out the pile of boxes were in some order, despite it looking like chaos. Each shipping vendor has their own little designated area where their packages are stored waiting to be picked up. He tells me that all the official looking people here actually open the boxes and compare it to the packing list. No sooner than he mentions it, 4 people tear open a giant box and start unwrapping all of these computer parts from someone's box. Francis also tells me where to go for shipments from FedEx, DHL and the post office. Turns out Francis still hasn't tried to scam me and he's telling me useful information. Bigger tip.
Mr. UPS shows up and everyone immediately storms into the UPS kiosk to try and get up front. Luckily Francis isn't too big and he slips by into the front. Way to go Francis!
Francis gives Mr. UPS (aka the Break Taker), my paperwork and he pulls out a binder filled with packing slips and starts to look for mine. During his search I look about the room and wonder just how long it's going to take for someone to locate a brown cardboard box in a warehouse of brown cardboard boxes.
Mental note: use colorful packing tape for ease of identification.
25 cedis later, Mr. UPS gives me a box that I can imagine once had corners and was probably "box" shaped. It's now a little more spherical.
Francis and Mr. UPS exchange some words and now we have to go talk to someone else. I can tell she's important because she's wearing a very fancy uniform and has her own office. We're waiting outside and Francis says "we have to talk to the boss." Damn it Francis, what did you do?! Tip diminishing.
The "boss" has a glare that would make pit bulls wet themselves. She says something to a subordinate who says something to Francis. Unfortunately Francis didn't respond fast enough because the subordinate tears one of my documents from Francis's hands - ripping it in the process. Well, as long as they let me bring the goldfish to jail, it might turn out okay.
The subordinate and boss lady chat briefly and then Francis and I are instructed to wait by a desk. Eventually subordinate comes over, orders someone to open the box (which I suppose is for the second time), and has Francis start shuffling through all the items.
"What's wrong, don't you like Ghanaian food?"
"Well I haven't been able to find Goldfish here"
"What's this?" Holding up the dish wand
"You put soap in the handle and use it for washing dishes"
"Too good to use your hands?"
"...."
"Who sent all of this to you?"
"My mom" (oh shit, it was actually my mother-in-law, but I can't change the story now).
"Ah, so your a mommy's boy"
"Well, I'm an only child so she wants to send me stuff from the states"
She says something else and Francis tries to repack everything into what's left of my "box".
Now we have to actually go talk to the boss lady.
"What's your name?"
"Daniel Cavazos"
"Where do you work?"
"PricewaterhouseCoopers"
"Oh so you're an accountant?"
"Yes ma'am"
"How long have you been in Ghana?"
"About 5 weeks"
"How long will you be in Ghana?"
"Two years"
"Two years! You must love it here"
"It's been great"
<subordinate interjects> "His mommy sent him food"
"Hahaha, you're a mommy's boy! How old are you"
"29" shit, not sure why that came out, I'm only 28 - hopefully they don't look at my passport and do the math
"Ah, you must still wear diapers with how nervous you look"
*nervous laugh*
Boss lady says something subordinate
Subordinate: "She's done with you, now say thank you"
"Thank you"
We show a receipt to about 4 other people before getting the box back to the taxi who waited for me. I got my package and didn't end up in jail - so I give Francis a decent tip. He gives me his number and tells me to let him know when I'm coming to get a package and he'll help me.
We'll see.
About an hour later, I get back to the office with dried goods and the remnants of a box.
I'd like to know where the scary boss lady went to charm school.
ReplyDeleteI bet you're disappointed that you didn't get the same level of impeccable training.
ReplyDelete