Never did I think that a visit to an airport could give such an impression that I am compelled to write about it. This was before I went through Kotoka International Airport in Accra.
I’m traveling to London for a week and missing about everything you could imagine in Accra (I hope it’s cloudy everyday and all of your air conditioners break – just kidding..sort of…I miss you all already) so I’m making a solo trip through Kotoka. Small Sammy (our driver) was nice enough to give me a ride to the airport, and when we got there, being the naïve girl that I am, I asked him if there were separate drop offs depending on the airline. He stared at me for at least a minute and I have never felt more like a spoiled American – the answer is no. This is not JFK, this is not Heathrow, this is Kotoka. When I got inside I could see why –there were probably about five flights that were going out that night. Thus begins the experience of Kotoka.
You get stopped about every twenty feet in this airport. It was like traffic on the highway – you finally think you’re able to start moving and then you stop again. Not to offend the workers, but I honestly think it was because people are curious and just want to look through passports. Sir…you just watched me get my passport and boarding pass checked by three other people in the span of 100 yards…I got so many hisses getting to my gate because I had walked by some employee who I had not noticed.
Everyone thinks that I am incredibly sketchy in this airport. Or they’re just nosy. I gave my driver’s license to one of the security people because I didn’t have my passport out, and they thought that it was fake. They asked what it was and when I told them it was my driver’s license, they scoffed and then ran it through a scanner after examining it front and back. They also looked at my passport for about five minutes and then said ‘BLUE? Your eyes are not blue!’. Yes, actually, my eyes are blue. More laughs. I don’t know if this was on purpose but they also put me in a check in line where every single person in front of me either had 800 children or 800 bags to check in (come on people, really? I was able to be underweight for the first time ever, I think you could do the same) and when I was finally able to check in, the man could not stop asking me questions about what I was doing in London and Accra. And then repeating and laughing at all of my answers. He also really enjoyed looking through my passports at all the stamps I’ve gotten.
Security at Kotoka is AWESOME. I hate having to go through security and take out my laptop and take off my shoes and awkward wait in line with strangers and we are all barefoot and nervous our stuff will get stolen if we leave it a the end of the line for too long. Not necessary here – I told the man I had a laptop – ‘that’s fine!’. And it gets to stay in the backpack. You also get to keep your shoes on…lovely. America should be so chill. But then I left my watch on because I am an idiot and security beeped and I had to be searched anyway.
There are two gates at Kotoka airport. Just two. You would think it is incredibly small but actually, the two gates have about 1000 seats in each boarding area and it is incredibly annoying to walk through a mile of hallways to get to the gate.
That is all for the close analysis of Kotoka…I’m sure you have really enjoyed it. By the way – watching the Tudors at the airport is incredibly uncomfortable. And incredibly inappropriate.
After note – I thought that coming to London I would finally blend in and not be pointed out for being an Obruni. But walking through the airport and the streets of London to get to my hotel wearing a custom made shirt from African fabric and shorts in sixty degree weather kind of killed that.
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Our air conditioner is broken. Thanks for jinxing it Whit.
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