80 Days. 14 Countries. 5 People. 1 Van

This is Fu’ad, head troublemaker at Zikoko. For 80 days, Toke, Kayode and I will be travelling across every mainland country in ECOWAS West Africa, along with our trusty interpreter/planner, Tosin, and our bus captain, Taiwo.

We’ll be looking for amazing stories about food, culture, language, money, the impact of technology and of course people, and we’ll be sharing those stories here, every day.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYzWnbCr6W0

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

How to pack for 14 countries in 80 days

Toke – You start by making lists. A whole lot of lists. Then you try and fail to make half of the content of your wardrobe fit into one suitcase, so you end up with two suitcases and a backpack. Which will be very inconvenient if we ever find ourselves in a situation where I need to put my load on my head and run.

Fu’ad – You save it for last minute, then spend the day before the trip running to the market, looking for things that fit. The dirty clothes you badly want to travel with and should have washed a week ago, you wash them anyway. And then iron-dry. Then you pack. And get it going.

Kayode – Pack as little as you can and pack a whole lot of gear. Two cameras, two mics, a drone, a couple of 18 terabyte hard drives and of course a drone because you can’t spend 80 days travelling through West Africa without a drone.

Tosin – Pack just a few clothes and only the necessities. Extra clothes can always be bought on the road. And to me ‘necessities’ include just medication. Any other thing at all can be bought on the road.

Captain Taiwo – No matter what, don’t pack more than one bag.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf77sgX_hdw

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

We know Jollof spread across West Africa somehow, but what else spread?

We’ll be travelling across the region, hopping from city to city. We’ll start in Lagos and travel the entire coastline, through the Python temples of Benin, through the beautiful beaches — and the not-beautiful ones — through the markets, through the music bars and street performances.

We’ll travel all the way to Senegal, the westernmost country of mainland Africa. Then we’ll head back through the landlocked countries; through the old cities of Mali, through Sankara’s country, through our Northern neighbours, Niger, and back into Nigeria.

If you live in any city across West Africa, preferably outside Nigeria, or if you know anyone who lives anywhere across West Africa, holler. We’re looking for people who know their way around their towns and cities, and cheap (or free) places to crash.

What do you think we should be looking out for? Tell us.

If you’d like to be involved somehow, holler in the comments, let’s get talking.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7vYvebsJlQ

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Ever heard of Dantokpa, the largest open-air market in West Africa? Watch this incredible video to find out all the things and people you’ll find in Dantokpa. What you see might shock you.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7x_WtOyQG0

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

How Similar Are Nigeria And Benin Republic

After a few days in Benin, we have concluded that Benin Republic and Nigeria are way too similar. Mention any local dish from pounded yam to fisherman pepper soup and they definitely have an equivalent.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdkCiATT0Xc

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

What can you do in one day in Ouidah, Benin Republic? In this video, follow the Jollof Road team as they explore the Door of No Return, carry pythons in the Python Temple, and dance in Grand Popo, Benin Republic.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZwYJxHuNoc

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Ganvié Isn’t West Africa’s Venice, It’s Ganvié

Here are a couple of ways in which Ganvié is different from Venice:
- You don’t need a visa to visit Ganvie.
- Main languages spoken in Ganvie are Fon and French, not Italian.
- You can walk around parts of Venice. In Ganvie, you need to hop in your boat to borrow some salt from a neighbour. Even the market is made up of a cluster of boats on the water and every family has three boats. One for the man to fish, another for the woman to sell the fish and the last for the kids to go to school.

While it’s nothing like Venice, Ganvié is a whole lot like Makoko just a lot cleaner and better organised.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVwZVAlWOac

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Need tips on how to shoot a video in Grand Popo, Benin Republic (or well, any other exotic beach)? Take our crash course by watching this groovie AF video shot in L’Auberge de Grand Popo a hotel that was built in 1917. Also find bonus tips on the super important things to do when you get to a new country by road.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sw0UY4_7Hgk

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Do you have burning questions about the Zikoko JollofRoad trip? How we did the magic of crossing Seme Border in 15 minutes? Who are the people and organizations making this trip of a lifetime possible? How we choose what places to explore? The best things that have happened so far? Watch this video to see Toketemu answer all of them!


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbfHp_7fOdg

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

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Voodoo And Witchcraft Are Not The Same Things

According to our guide – Ahosi who comes from a long lineage of Voodoo priests and is also one himself, Voodoo and witchcraft are two words often used interchangeably, even though they connote two very different things. While Voodoo is a religion, witchcraft is a practice which often involves all of the messiness you see in Nollywood movies, from money rituals to the smithing of enemies in calabashes. Think about it like Harry Potter. Voodoo is Dumbledore and his army, while witchcraft is Voldermort and his army.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9cZ-DhV594

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

How Do You Buy Food When Can’t Speak The Language?

The first thing you learn quickly when you enter Lomé is that everything that was on the low in Benin, is on a high here.

The food is spicier. The motorcycles are trying to kill you. The police presence is especially stronger. So what happens when you’re driving in Lomé with Nigerian plates? Chances you’ll get flagged by the police is pretty high.

“If you hear the whistle,” Captain says, “just stop.”

Where I come from, when the police really wants you to stop, they;
- Jump in front of your car,
- Try to shoot your car, or,
- Doublecross your car like a gun fight is about to start.

I’ll take whistles over any of these anyday. And the bribery scene? “They ask for money, but mostly like tips,” Captain explains. “If you don’t have your papers complete, there’s nothing you’ll give them that they’ll collect. They don’t play with documents at all.”

Our first stop of the day is Ecobank’s Headquarters. If you haven’t already noticed, these guys are our partners in making sure we have friends in every country we enter, because they are in every country we enter. So if we’re coming to Lomé, might as well drop by at their Headquarters.

We run into a couple of people; from Carl who speaks like. Then there’s Femi.

“I find your name very interesting,” I say, “what’s the meaning?”

“I have no idea,” she laughs.

“You should tell them how you got your name,” Osahon says. She smiles the smile of someone who’s said the story so many times.

“My dad named me Femi because he likes Femi Kuti so much,” she says. “He’s Malian, and my mum is Togolese.”

We talk some more about Togo, and our itinerary, and all the places we should be visiting. Like the Fetish Market. Or the beach on the weekend.

Time to move, and our compass is pointed in any direction that leads to food. We end up at a canteen whose owner reminds us all of all the Buka mummies we didn’t like very much.

“Does our Travel Insurance cover sickness,” Toke asks when she’s triggered by how the Buka mummy handles the food. Of course it does. It’s Leadway.

Everyone’s having Pounded Yam, the type that makes you wonder what exactly Nigerians have been pounding all your life.

It’s smooth, and fluffy, almost like a memory pillow. The consistent struggle is that, like the Pounded Yam we had at Cotonou, this one’s also cold.

The soup is even more interesting. It’s Sauce Blanc – White Soup – but it’s nothing like Ofe Nsala, the Igbo White Soup, and it’s for more than one reason. First of all, Togo and Benin les cantines have a thing for making sure you don’t miss out on the pepper and tomatoes.

So they just throw in the fruits whole – the tomatoes and peppers that is. So if you really want your pepper or tomatoes, you’ll have to dig in with your teeth.

One other difference it seems to have with Ofe Nsala is the thickness – Nsala uses a thickener like yam to reduces the chances of the soup dripping down to your elbow.

Toke tries to go in on Pounded Yam too, but the groundnut flavour in her groundnut soup is too strong for. Not too strong for me though. Or Kayode.

Still on food – a few hours later, Kayode and I step out of our hotel to try out a neighbourhood Canteen.

It’s the first time we’re trying to get food without Tosin, and to put it simply, it almost ended in tears.

“Riz, riz dey?” I ask. “Riz something-something-that-even-I-can’t-remember-because-I-was-saying-nonsense.”

This woman is ready for me, because she just says a bunch of things, and all I remember is “Ivory Coast” and “Poule”. We’re not in Ivory Coast, but I assume whatever she’s making is from Ivory Coast. I know Poule is chicken.

So the oui begins. We just yes everything.

“Jkbidkpkd poule?”

“Oui oui.”

“Jibdjbkbidvbubjojd.”

“Oui oui.”

Next thing you know, one of the women working there has pulled a full chicken out of the freezer, and she’s prepping it for us.

“Kayode, did we ask for full chicken?”

“I dunno, man.”

But language is a bastard, because we’re sitting there and we’re worried that if we complicate matters, we’ll end up pissing them off, and go to bed without dinner.

One guy there is slowly pounding pepper in a mortar, and looking at us. I don’t even know even if it’s sympathy or disgust. I don’t care, I’m hungry.

The woman running the place is pounding with him, her right hand holding a pestle, her left holding a cigarette.

Just when it looked like our fate of Poule was about sealed, Gerrard, our Saviour showed up – he’s the receptionist at the hotel on duty. I’d have cried and hugged him if he’d come 10 minutes later.

Apparently, we’d oui’d to Chicken, a full chicken, and chips.

What is the moral of this story? If you must buy food in a place where you don’t understand the language, maybe point at the food. If you can’t, you better have pictures.

And if you don’t have pictures, I guess you’ll have to oui-oui and take whatever lands in front of you.

The very first thing you notice when you cross the border from Nigeria into Benin is the change in pace. That hustle and bustle of Lagos almost dramatically comes to an abrupt stop.

Everything about Benin is muted. No one is in a hurry. There’s always tomorrow. The inflow of Nigerians into Benin every day is outstanding and I found it curious that even though pop culture travelled, nothing else about our culture did. Five minutes after crossing the border into Togo I realize that the Nigerian influence skipped over Benin and went into Togo.

Togo is a small country. So small that in an attempt to find our hotel we found ourselves driving from one end of it to the other in about two hours. I got into Togo expecting it to not have an identity of its own. The currency is the same with Benin and so are the languages. But 10 minutes in, you notice the difference.

Fun fact: Togo is an hour behind Nigeria

First of all, there’s suya. Four days in Benin and we never came across a suya person. The popular baguette sold on every street corner in Benin, gives way into what looks like Agege bread. The immigration officers in Togo are a little brasher and that gives you your first sense of how different the people are. Two hours in and we witness an argument that comes very close to becoming physical. I get the sense that it’s going to be one of many we see.

The pace that had slowed when we crossed into Benin suddenly picked up. The bikes were suddenly faster. Like in Benin Republic, they all seemed to be wearing helmets, but there was no sense of organization. The people walked brisker and tempers were shorter.

There are also a lot more people who speak English in Togo than in Benin. You even hear people conversing in Pidgin English. My first thought was that their proximity to Ghana was the reason for this. But Benin’s proximity to Nigeria doesn’t have the same effect on the people. In Benin, it’s French, Fon or nothing. In the hours I’ve spent in Togo I’ve heard more people speak English than the four days, I spent in Benin


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wC0BZxP0xc

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

This Has Been The Hardest Border To Cross

On the day we left Lagos we set off for the border at 9 am. The plan had been to leave for 6. We were late and fretted about how that would affect our trip. It was common knowledge that Seme border was a mess and there were even rumours that it was closed. We expected to be kept there well into the night. We ended up crossing it in exactly 15 minutes.

Crossing from Benin into Togo. We were a lot more relaxed. We did some running around in town before heading to the border at 2 pm. We crossed in 30 minutes and found ourselves driving from one end of Togo to the other in 2 hours in search of SIM cards and our hotel.

Fun fact: At 76,363 km2 Niger State is the largest state in Nigeria. Togo is 56,785km2. Making the country smaller than the largest state in Nigeria.

We had heard rumours about how difficult it was to cross Aflao – the border between Togo and Ghana. But we had also heard rumours about Seme and crossing it had been a breeze. How difficult could Aflao be?

We meant to set out early but ended up heading to the border at 12 pm. We got to the border in under an hour. The first thing we had to do was find an agent. Captain Taiwo had a plug so we were sorted on that end. He collected our passport and in 20 minutes our passports were stamped. Now came the difficult part. Clearing the bus. An undertaken had to be sent from our transport partners – GIGM’s head office with their letterhead unless the bus couldn’t cross through.

It took an hour and thirty minutes for that and other documents we needed to clear the vehicle to be sorted before we went through our first customs check and got flagged through. Five minutes later we got stopped for another customs check. Here we found out that there was an error in one of the documents. Our vehicle had been described as a car and not a bus, and so we had to go back and fix it. That took another hour.

And so with the help of an agent and a couple of Cedis to grease palms it took us three hours to cross the Aflao border.

Je ne parle pas français

Even with the help of Tosin, navigating two francophone countries in eight days is hard when the most french four out of our five member team can speak is ‘oui’ and ‘bonjour’. So hearing some ask her to please speak English when she burst into rapid-fire French was music to our ears.

After spending 8 days saying ‘ouis’, ‘nons’ and ‘bonjours’, we caught ourselves responding to English with our limited French vocabulary within the first couple of hours we crossed the border.

We Met Mr. Eazi!!!



We ran into Eazi at Buka and he was gracious enough to make a whole ass video telling you guy, you have to stick with us on this 80-day adventure and take a fan photo with Kayode and me.

Today we are all going to pretend we still have the same alcohol tolerance we has when we were 20 and attempt a bar crawl. We are also going to go in hunt of some more Ghana Jollof and try kenkey for the first time .


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LpR3cyzovc

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

In The Case Of Ghana Jollof Vs. Nigerian Jollof…

Gra-gra
Definition: To cause difficulty or annoyance
Synonym: Wahala

The one thing Nigerians have that Ghanaians don’t is Gra-gra. Although the country isn’t as slow-paced and is more developed than Benin or Togo, Ghanaians, Beninose and Togolese people don’t have wahala.

Chale e dey pap wa
Nigerian translation: O gbona feli feli

In the case of Ghana Jollof vs Nigerian Jollof, the jury is still out. Right from Togo, I had been asking about where to find the best Jollof in Accra and most of the suggestions led us to Buka at Osu, Central Accra. It’s at this point I’d like to address what seems to be a false perception of what income bracket I belong to. Because when we asked to film, we were politely prohibited from filming in a certain area because High Network Individuals and Diplomats are frequent clientele and they don’t like to be caught on camera. Who can guess why?

That didn’t stop them from being ever so accommodating and letting us set up quite elaborately in their outdoor space. My first impression of Ghana Jollof was that it was missing something. Several forkfuls in, and I still couldn’t place it. It had all the trappings of regular Jollof, tomatoes, rice, onions, pepper, but something had been left out. Then I put in some Shito (hot pepper sauce) and realised that was it — a trusty sidekick was missing. Ghana Jollof is created to go with Shito, the way bread is made for butter. It’s made a little blander than we Nigerians are used to because anything spicier would be an overkill when Shito is thrown in. And beloved I say this as objectively as possible, but when you throw in that Shito, Chale e dey pap wa.

In the spirit of immersing myself in the culture, I also ordered a bottle of Asana (Ghanaian drink made from fermented corn and caramelized sugar) to go with my Jollof. I have to say, I could have gone my whole life without needing to ever have tasted Asana. Like with Banku, I suspect it’s an acquired taste for me. And while I’m willing to give Banku another shot, this time with some grilled Tilapia and Shito instead of Okra, I don’t think it’s going to ever work out between Asana and me.

Unlike in Benin and Togo, Buka is only one of the thousands of places I could try Jollof in Ghana and that’s exactly what I’m going to keep on doing for the next couple of days.

We Turned Up All The Way, Ghana Style!!!


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shISuS8eBiY

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Book

From learning to use a Pentium 3 PC to now building more advanced stuff. We look at life at the University Of Cape Coast in Ghana through the eyes of Kakri.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adbSbqp1nio

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

How Money Works In Liberia

“It’s issuing only $100 bills,” a random stranger told me on our first night in Liberia. He’d just made a withdrawal and I was next in line.

We were spending the night in Yekepa, a mining town. When that slot opened, it spat $100 bills. American money. Our hotel charged in USD – $40 per room, a healthy discount. Thank you, Melvin my man in the Star Boy shirt.

Everyone was hungry, so we went to the only open restaurant at 9 PM, a well-lit kitchen.

“Over 200 people are fed here every day,” one of the Indians running the place told us.

They charged $10 per person – an eat-all-you-can of sorts.

One full night of transactions in this country and no Liberian dollars like my Social Studies teacher promised.

The next day, we had to buy sim cards, so off we went into the market. The shop we stopped at is run by Izu, a Nigerian from Imo State. No surprises there.

Each sim card cost 500 Liberian Dollars. Each airtime scratch card costs $1. This is where the currency gymnastics began. But guess who wants to play? Me.

“Izu,” I said, “I want to change $10 to LD. How much will you give me?”

“$1 for 210 Liberian Dollars.”

I changed $50. This is what 10,500 Liberian Dollars look like.

At Ganta – about 3 hours from Yekepa when you subtract getting stuck in the mud and a whole community coming to help you – we had to buy fuel.

The giant sign outside the filling station said petrol went for 710 Liberian Dollars per gallon. The actual pump charged in US dollars; almost $1 per litre when you do the math.

“If you’re buying above 3750 Liberian dollars,” the courteous fuel attendant said, “please pay in USD.” That’s what we did.

At the border office in Ganta, some payments are made – over $50. When we got hungry and had to go eat at a Buka where they tried to kill us with the large portions, we paid roughly 500 Liberian Dollars per person.

Over 4 hours later – when you add Immigration checkpoints – we were greeted into Monrovia with rush hour traffic. That’s good enough time to go withdraw money. And what did the ATM dispense?

We reached our hotel, more USD. And I couldn’t help but ask the people at the reception, “Are there any ATMs in this country that issue Liberian Dollars?”

“I’m not sure,” John said, “but we accept only USD.”

I asked Princess too, but her answer was a different kind. “I’ve never used an ATM before.”

When it was time to pay and we wanted to use their POS – the first one we’d seen in the country – things got a little tricky.

“I had to show her how to use it,” Toke said later. “I found that very interesting.”

Toke finds everything interesting, but what I found interesting in this case is Princess. She couldn’t use a POS, not because she wasn’t smart. She’d just never had to use it.

What she’s in fact used, like most Liberians in Monrovia and in most places around the country – no matter how difficult they’re to reach – is mobile money. The biggest forces for mobile money are MTN and Orange, both telcos — the places POS terminals can’t reach yet, telcos will.

It works like this. I asked my friend, Dounard, to demonstrate. He’s a law student here in Liberia.

“Everyone has a mobile money account,” he started talking in his most Liberian accent, where the last letter of every word is not necessary.

“So ah have it, the person you want to send it to will have it – it’s connected to phone numbers. When I want to send you money, I go to an agent, tell them how much I want to send, then I give them the money, say $20. In a few moments, the other agent will receive it. When the other person wants to collect the money, they go to the agent in their area. Show them a code, and collect their cash. The agents get a small commission.”

If an agent does mobile mobile transactions, he most definitely holds cash. If he holds cash – in Liberian dollars and USD – then he’s most likely a cash exchange pointman.

That kind of explains what happened at breakfast. We – Captain and I – went out to a roadside food place. Lapper-be-door; the door is a wrapper, basically. Kate at the shop gave me Jollof Rice and Fish for 800 Liberian Dollars. Captain had his own Jollof with three drumsticks for 350 Liberian Dollars. 1,150 in total.

When I pulled out $5 to pay, she sighed, collected the money, and went to the next shop to change it to Liberian dollars. Then I paid her in Liberian dollars.

“For restaurants,” Dounard said, “pay USD. For Lapper-be-door, pay in Liberian dollars.”

It extends to a larger part of Liberian soceity.

“When you go to the markets,” Christina Kojo said, “everyone transacts in Liberian dollars.”

Sometime in the late nineties during World War II – Liberians call their civil wars World War – Christina Kojo entered Nigeria as a refugee. Today, she’s head of E-banking at Ecobank Liberia.

“Adoption of technology has increased in the past one year. Our ATMs are beginning to dispense Liberian dollars. People are more interested in POSes, businesses. A lot of people like to hold their money and keep it under their beds. But that’s changing.”

“USD has always been a thing in Liberia,” Dounard said, “since I was born at least. Water bills are paid in USD. Power bills are paid in USD.”

After the war, the country was flushed with a ton of relief money to rebuild Liberia. Sirleaf Johnson’s Liberia where she was President for 12 years saw a lot of that – a presidential term is 6 years.

The Liberian dollars was significantly more valuable than it is now. Two years ago, it used to be about 100 to 120 LD to the USD, according to Dounard.

Today, I changed mine at 210 LD to the dollar. What does this mean in the broader context? The Liberian dollars is losing value, obviously. “It wasn’t even as high as 210 at the beginning of the year,” Dounard said.

Kate didn’t have any opinions about it though. She just asked if we were going to drop by again for dinner. We’ll still be in Liberia, sounds like a great idea to me.

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Why Did Our Hotel Room In Sierra Leone Cost 618,000 Per Night?

When it comes to currency in a new Jollof Road country, the Nigerian in me is constantly having heart attack. When we checked in a few nights ago, the first thing I wanted to do was grab a bottle of coke. This is what a bottle of Coke that costs 6,000 looks like.



And a 618,000 room? It looks like this.



The first thing you learn about a country at a border is their exchange rate. $1 goes for 9,800 leones. That means the lowest note we’ve interacted with is 1,000 leones, and the only coin I’ve touched is 500 leones.

Just as with my Liberian confusion, this feels completely normal for Sierra Leoneans, because really, what other frame of reference do people have?

I got talking with the guy at the hotel reception and somehow, it ended in income. I asked him how much he earned.

“800,000 leones,” he said.

It had me thinking, maybe, just maybe this might be a good window into his Leone life. What do Sierra Leoneans think about money and how do they interact with it? I couldn’t find that out today, but you’ll be hearing from me.

BiggerbossAmani:
Book

Happy to have you!

BigCabal:


Happy to have you!

well happy you are making a life time Trip but unfortunately am not happy, because you already left Lome to Ghana.

Next time you visit Lome...don't forget to visit Asiyéyé market and see for yourself how they trade used clothing

BiggerbossAmani:
well happy you are making a life time Trip but unfortunately am not happy, because you already left Lome to Ghana.

Oh no.
Are you in Lome?

BiggerbossAmani:
Next time you visit Lome...don't forget to visit Asiyéyé market and see for yourself how they trade used clothing

We'll keep this in mind. Thank you

Enroute Guinea

We were in Sierra Leone last week and had a good time discovering fried rice that looks like Jollof rice, currency that makes you a millionaire and a hotel room that cost 618,000. Now we are enroute Guinea, our 7th country. Who can guess how we feel?

BigCabal:


Oh no.
Are you in Lome?

Yes

I love this thread! Amazing stuff

Detailed & Addictive Thread..

I'm surely learning new stuffs here

Story Please Dont Mind me