We got our visa immediately, and headed for the border. There we were told, that we needed a carnet, otherwise we had to pay the value of the truck as a guarantee, that we would not sell it in Ghana. They were talking about Eur 2.000,-, which we did not have.
Next round: from officer to officer, finding out, that it was also possible by making a bond. There were insurance companies doing this, and they charged Eur 100,- - still too much for our tight budget. Back to the first officer, asking if there are cheaper options. He sent us over the border to Ghana, there was a row of offices. We walked over the border like many other people, without even showing our passports.
On the other side, we found an office where they offered us to write a letter, telling that we are tourists and politely ask to enter the country with our truck and promise to bring the truck out of the country again. This sounded ridiculous, but we thought: ok, this is Africa – who knows. The man wrote the letter by hand on a paper, I typed it into the computer, and then we went to an official decorated with 4 stars, who signed and stamped the letter. Then back to the other officer, who asked: “But where is the bond?” So back to the beginning: what is a bond, what does it have to look like? Over the border again, back to the office. They asked us to wait. Then back to Togo, we went to the 4-star officer and asked what we could do and why it did not work. He made a phone call and sent us back to the first place.
In the late afternoon, the officer there brought us a man from an insurance company, which would charge a correct price. Back to Ghana, filling in forms, and then: Eur 50,-. With the guy back the officer, we asked, why it was so expensive. The officer started to shout at the insurance guy and told him, that it was Eur 25,- - an amount we were happy to accept.
Then back to the waiting room, the man were running around with forms, and about 1 hour later it was – almost – done: They phoned a man who was at home already back to the office, he signed and stamped, and then it turned out, that a signature of the chief officer was necessary, and he was gone already.
It was dark, and we had to spend the night between the borders. The guard told us to please move the truck to another parking place, because at night there might be some shadows of people jumping over the walls, and then he has to shoot.
The parking lot was filled with rusted cars, which were confiscated because of fake number plates.
The area between the borders was an interesting place: usually, these places were already indicated from far by lots of trash. Here it was the opposite: dustbins everywhere, and posters with “Keep your environment clean”. I threw a banana peel on the ground, and immediately somebody came and showed me the dustbin.
I only found a few water sachets, and one big fence with black plastic bags all over. Taking photos was not allowed, and we did not render for more trouble.