WORKAHOLIC PALAVA

There, I was rushing off to work....as usual a bit late. it was 7:35am on the 1st of July 2013 and my new month resolution was to always be on time. Applying lipstick as I looked through the rear view mirror, I knew it will be tough to beat the early morning traffic.

I woke up as usual at 6:30am, said my morning prayers and dozed for another 10 minutes before dragging myself off to the bathroom to perform my daily hygienic duties flipping on and off switches as I walked across the room. Thinking in my mind "God give me the luxury to one day be able to get out of bed at late afternoon on a working day" I rushed through my bath, clothing, hair and make up, grabbed a Muller corner yoghurt (my latest addiction) from the refrigerator, and my handbag on my way out the door. I looked back trying to remember if I left on any electric gadget.

Mondays are usually busy days and its best to start out early if I were to leave before 5:00pm.  I had three meetings lined up, and I was meeting some publishers at lunch time. Driving out, I decided to take a shortcut in order to avoid the traffic that I am sure must have built up. Taking a sharp turn into a dirt road that leads to a shortcut,  I nearly hit a stray dog."Gerraout of the way" I yelled, as if the dog could hear me though my wound up car windows. It merely took a step away from the looming car Tyre turn to look as me with big sad eyes as if accusingly, then limped away ever slowly, flies trailing in its wake, oblivious to my temperament.

I almost hit the car roof as the car dipped into a porthole. "Jesus take the wheel..." My muttering turned to surprise as I hit Teshie expressway and saw that there were no cars on the road save a few "tro-tro" (danfo/commercial buses).  The road was free! I realised it was the first time I had seen the road without a traffic jam since I relocated to East Legon in January. Singing along to Enya's "May it be" in my best imitation opera voice i felt like I had won the lottery. A trip that usually took anywhere between 30 minutes to one hour took a mere 12 minutes, and there I was at the office gate.

I realised something was amiss, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Driving down the road to my office the streets had seemed a bit deserted but I don't mind. That's how I like it, no crowds. I could hear the birds singing as usual, so it was not dead silent. I had made sure to wear my name tag before leaving home so that wasn't the problem. I looked at my feet to make sure I had not left the house in my bathroom slippers as I once did, I had on my favourite 'knock about pumps' so that wasn't the problem either. Unusually, there were no cars parked around the perimeters of the building. I looked at my watch it was almost a quarter to eight so I couldn't possibly be the first to arrive work. That will be the day! I looked up to see all three security guards looking at me strangely.

That's when I remembered that it was a public holiday.

CHAINSAW MASSACRE IN GENEVA

It was January 9 2009, we had just landed at Geneva International Airport where the weather was about two degrees. Bundled up in our thick jackets, gloves, mufflers and caps we must have looked like Eskimos but we couldn't care less. We were at last going to visit all the places we had only dreamed of and saw in pages of text books and magazines. Out first point of call would be the Patek Philippe Museum spanning 500 years of masterpiece creations from the best watch makers in the world. We were expecting to see an extraordinary display of watches, musical automata and portrait miniatures from the 16th to the 19th century, in addition to a library dedicated entirely to horology. It didn't matter that the chances of our buying anything was slimmer than a wand. We were going to shop till we dropped on the famous Rues Basses street, we were going to visit the UN, Redcross, Rousseau Island (a romantic Island named after one of my favourite philosophers, Jean Jacques-Rousseau), the Place Neuve, the Lake and perhaps go to the foot of Monte Blanc.

With Omon Imohi, Jan 2009, The Lake, Geneva, Switzerland

Presently, my travel companion and sister Omon was rummaging though her hand bag, looking for the information note we got from the bed and breakfast we had booked prior to embarking on the journey. She finally found it and we proceeded to ask for directions to the address from the Information Desk. The pleasant thing about Switzerland is that they have four official languages, French, English, Italian and German, and so far as you can speak one, you can't really be lost. The Information Officer told us that buses to our destination were free, showed us where the bus stand was and and gave us the bus number to enter. We easily found our bus and got seated, we were glad to finally be on our way. 

As the bus wove its way through the city, dropping-off and picking up passengers, we couldn't help noticing all the beautiful hotels such as the Intercontinental, Mandarin Oriental, Grand Hotel Kempinsky, to mention a few. It was Omon that made our hotel booking and at some point I heard her mutter "I hope our bed and breakfast is at least decent". Our bus was noisy and since it was raining outside, the combination made it difficult for us to hear the stop announcements not that we understood since it happened to be in French. For in our bus we had people of all colours and races, to a first-timer it confirms the notion that Switzerland is truly a cosmopolitan country. 

We watched as more and more people got off the bus, till eventually there was only a handful of us left. As the bus sped through the night, we noticed a road sign that read Goodbye from Geneva it was then translated in three other languages. At this time I said "Omon are you sure we are going to the right place, we've left Geneva." Omon spoke to a lady who was sitting behind us and showed her the address, the lady said not to worry that we were right on track, that she was going the same way. That allayed my worries, for the time being. Once again we settled in for the ride. After what seemed like a short while, we arrived a village, a real village. Everyone alighted from the bus and the driver told us this was the last stop so we got off the bus at loss as to what next to do so once again Omon asked the lady from the bus about the bed and breakfast and she pointed in the general direction of a tall, nice looking building that somewhat stood out from the smaller houses in the surrounding. We thanked her and dragged our luggage towards the big building. 

On getting to the entrance of the building we rang the bell and the door was answered by a pleasant looking young lady carrying a baby. Thinking she was the bed and breakfast owner we explained that we were the guests that booked a room from the the UK. She was surprised by our explanation and said that it was her personal house and that there is no hotel or bed and breakfast within the entire community. By now we were beginning to panic. Upon showing her the Information Note, she read the address and conceded that though she knows the address she is not aware of any bed and breakfast in that location. She graciously offered to help us call the place, since we had no phones, once she was through talking on the phone she tried to describe the way to the house in question, directing us back to the road and showing us a dirt road to follow. 

Photo credits: Omon Imohi, Jan 2009, Geneva, Switzerland 

I was scared and even Omon was getting worried. I said "Omon are you sure this is safe?" Her reply was "Its okay even if we decide not to stay there, lets get there first, spend the night and tomorrow we can look for another place, I have to collect my one hundred and eighty pounds deposit." So we thanked the lady who promptly went back into her house and started down the dirt road. The road was muddy due to the rain, there was a broken down tractor farther down, by the road side, we could see a weak light in a distance and the illusion of a house but the road was dark, smelly and slippery.

By now, even Omon, despite her initial bravado was getting scared. I didn't even try to conceal my fears, I said "Omon I don't like this, there is no one in sight and everything is too still." At that moment we heard footsteps and heavy breathing coming towards us. In a sharp voice Omon yelled "Who is that!" No one answered. The foot steps stopped. We continued walking, then we heard the footsteps again, this time it sounded nearer so we started walking faster but the footsteps became more hurried too. Omon suddenly stopped and looked sideways, I nearly bumped into her. She was so still, so I followed her gaze. In the weak light I couldn't really see his face except that he was wearing what seemed like a well worn hooded great coat, the over 6 feet man standing a few feet away seemed to have emerged from nowhere. What happened next is what horror movies are made of. One minute Omon was standing right there, the next thing I knew she had picked her bags and was running back the way we came at breakneck speed, all the while yelling "Chainsaw massacre! Its the man from the Texan Chain Saw Massacre." I exclaimed "Ehn?" It took me a split second to follow suit. 

Its amazing how one could run so fast without remembering if you put your right foot before or behind your left. For once being an athlete in high school paid off. Both Omon and I had been runners in secondary school. We ran for our dear lives, not stopping till we arrived at the bus stop. Needless to say. we wound up back at the airport where we used the airport tourist service to get a cheap hotel in the city. 

It was a night to remember and the beginning of a memorable holiday.