24 June 2010
At 6AM Ron and I moto-ed to the Lomé station and jammed into a taxi, half filled with Kola nuts, on a mission to pick up the container from the port and bring it back to Kpalimé. After a stop in Keve, where it was market day and both sides of the road were lined with colorful stacks pagnes, women hawking platters full of peanuts and dried fish and general Togolese mayhem, we arrived in Lomé.
In Adidogome, the quartier of the Lomé FECECAV office where we were to meet Novinyo and the area in which the riots and mayhem of the past few days was the most “chaud” (hot), we saw blackened pavement and piles of tires on the side of the road, a large police presence, and the remnants of the protests…but as the taxi driver explained, the trouble makers had slipped back into the shadowy corners of Lomé, once again defeated by batons and tear gas.
We went directly to the Maersk office, expecting to head directly to the port. And thus began one of the most frustrating days of my life in Togo. Occasionally I have times such as this, where I wonder why I bother, discouraged and frustrated, conquered and overwhelmed…it is always washed away by the encouragement of my partners and my belief in what I do and the impact of SunPower Afrique, but this is not easy. For the second time on official business in Lomé, a few tears fell.
I learned from our “partners” at Maersk that my papers were not at all in order. I was made aware that SunPower Afrique has only touched the tip of the iceberg in procuring the necessary authorizations and licenses to carry out our import-export and official business in Togo. I was stunned and furious at the lies and secrecy. Again.
I need about 4 more critical documents. No one told me, no one gave me information, no one thought to share these essential procedures. However Simon and his colleagues at Maersk promised to navigate the treacherous and ravenous customs whitewater to get my container out that day. It was only later in the day when Novinyo realized what Simon had muttered under his breath in Ewe after this promise – “You will pay dearly…” He told us he would call when the container was on the truck and ready to depart.
They didn’t tell me before so that they could claim they are “doing me favors,” for which they are of course to be compensated. Same with the Ministry of Decentrealization, who also did not impart any of this information, but also for reasons of sheer misunderstanding of their own government’s procedures…I have a knack for timing. Since this year’s elections, no one knows where anything is anymore…ministers have changed and arbitrarily moved their offices and changed staff to surround themselves with their “associates.” In addition, since the government is now decentralized (since 2005, when Eyadema’s death forced the changeover from dictatorship to multi-party democracy) each ministry carry out licensures and approvals themselves. The result: I end up doing the same thing 8 times, as each ministry is entitled to their own lists of required documents, fees and examination. Stamps and bargains at every one. The inefficiency (and other things which I cannot write on this blog, as I am even now unsuccessfully trying to be politically correct and inoffensive…) is astonishing.
After traveling to at least 5 offices, (including one where the secretary hated me from the moment I walked in the door for whatever reason, refused to make eye contact with me and, when I placed the list I had received at the previous office – a different Ministry – in front of her, innocently, honestly!, asking if it was the same, she starting shrieking at me and asked Novinyo why the hell I was shoving papers in her face from a different department…) Novinyo pulled me aside after this visit. He told me my behavior was unacceptable, I need to shut my mouth, let him do the talking and understand that when I show documents from other offices and demand answers, the perception is that I am insulting them and telling them that they don’t know how to do their job. He then asked me if I had received a Quote from Maersk. This was where the tears came.
For nearly 6 months I have demanded this from Simon. He refused to answer and finally, when I copied my contacts in NY and his big boss, told me that I would receive this upon my arrival. Assuming this was normal procedure I accepted. When I told Novinyo I did not yet have anything except an $800 quote for trucking to Kpalimé (which he cried was ludicrous) he starting screaming. They are going to rob you!! How did you not tell me this?! If you have no quote they can do whatever they want!! They are going to steal everything from us!! I am your representative!! You HAVE to tell me these things Kira!! I felt like a naïve yovo, the worst feeling in the world, a bad partner, and a complete idiot…I also realized that Novinyo is a very special person. He helps me more than anyone else, taking days off from work to drive me around Lomé, negotiate for my documents and support SunPower Afrique. It was at this moment, when he told me I should have told him about the lack of a quote, that I realized how I can rely on him, and how he wants me to rely on him. I am so lucky. He told me to stop my crying immediately. I did my best.
Simon called. The container is on the truck. Come to the office, pay us, and get instructions. Sitting comfortably in the chilly AC of the office, they placed an invoice of $6000 in front of me. I truly thought I might throw up. Panicked, I looked at Novinyo and he warned me to be quiet with his eyes. I did just that. I won’t go into the details of the negotiations, as it is not well-advised for me to write this here, except to say that Novinyo is an expert, a hero and I believe that we embarrassed them into bringing down their fees (although I never did and probably never will get the itemized list I asked for for the “customs fees,” Simon telling me this is an “internal document.”) I somehow persuaded them to let me pay the ocean freight to DAMCO when I return to the states (honestly because I forgot to send the check before I left…it is sitting on my desk…) and, since it was after 5, I couldn’t go to the bank and withdraw the deposit of $3000. I proimised to come back with it next week and realized that somehow I managed to walk out without paying anything…
We then went to the port. Novinyo knew someone at the gate and managed to get us inside, and I felt like a fugitive, ducking between the massive trucks that travel up and down the Route National carrying palm oil and supplies to Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger. Ron and I also breathed in enough exhaust and dust to last a lifetime…the port is a bustling place, gritty and loud, dangerous and severe. I couldn't help but notice all of the qir conditioned SUVs full of yovos driving in and out...import-export opportunists preying on the West African market...gross...
Three hours and 11 stamps later (not kidding…) we piled into the massive 1970s Mercedes and pounded our way to Kpalimé in the black African night. We were stopped 6 times along the way for more customs inspections and “fees” and arrived in front FECECAV at 11:45pm. Since a customs agent is required to be present when the container is unloaded, we decided to wait until the morning (they were all sleeping in a sodabi-induced stupor) and, exhausted, collapsed at Petite Suisse.
Last night my friend Yao (FECECAV’s chauffeur with the piercing black eyes and enormous hands that immediately swallow both of mine when they meet – I wrote a lot about him in 2008 if you recall :) ) and I had a beer on the roof of Petite Suisse. Yao spent time in Ghana and does not speak very good French, so understanding his hastily constructed Ewe-French-Ghanaian English phrases is always a challenge. I recounted the saga of getting the container out of the port, and, 20 minutes later, after much tongue clicking and head shaking, he looked at me smiling.
“Oh Togo, Togo,” he said, “Money was talking.”
