Ghana till date still has a single one main (emphasis mine) international airport, the Kotoka International Airport, KIA; of course located in the capital, Accra.
The closest an ordinary public school child came to the airport was on rare class excursions. I was once such an ordinary school child, only that I never went on one such excursion.
But I schooled for almost 12 years close to the KIA. Nine years in Burma Camp we had to endure the noise of planes arriving and departing - taking off and landing, that's more appropriate.
Then three years in St. Thomas Aquinas Senior High, where we waited almost 30 seconds for planes to pass before teaching could continue - approximately five times daily. Still, I never once dreamt of air transport.
Our holidays were usually spent in the neighbourhood, if we were lucky with an auntie outside Accra.
For us the Shaban kids, the closest we came to air travel was thanks to our "borga" uncle, Mustapha Idriss - he is the last born and only male on my mother's side. HRH Hajia Fati is the firstborn - Fati no dey carry last.
A borga is local parlance for someone who travels overseas in search of greener pastures. Such a person has all the necessary documents and routinely returns home. Connection: his return home from Italy and later Switzerland were the closest we came to air travelers. He stayed with us whenever he was in town.
He always sprang a surprise when coming back, either called our big brother Rayhann to supposedly receive his friend or said he needed some stuff picked from a friend at the airport then, boom; there he was. Later we figured his pranks and always guessed right on his coming.
When he was going was the best opportunity we had to go to the airport. He usually went in the evenings when we had returned from school, lucky you if you get chosen to join the loaded taxi. He checked in and came out for last meeting chats till boarding time.
Ours was to look up (ask kids) when the airplanes flew miles above us and make the childish wish that the pilot and passengers will buy us stuff on their return journey. The inside of an airplane was known to us only via the television and books.
Seeing uncle's passport and bulky air tickets - Alitalia, Lufthansa and Swiss Air, it never crossed at least my mind when I'd also get to travel needing so many papers. Then times we lived and dreamt of making it at home - after school, work, marry, get kids, grow old and ...... die.
The only time travel popped up was when we thought of the fifth pillar of Islam, Hajj - pilgrimage to Makkah. Even with that believed it was best done when we grow old and go discharge it - we have revised that position.
Talk of Hajj, it was the event that brought us our first air travel. Hajia Fati hustled boys and girls till we did "susu" - savings, and footed the bills of her Hajj years back.
At the time I suspect only our big brother had a passport. He also did his Hajj just last year. Me and my Congo Republic sojourn entering the third year and it's been good, the third to fly out and in.
I find it an experience that everyone must have a feel of. The fact that one gets to leave behind the on-ground means and gets to savour the skies is indeed a sign of how God has given man knowledge to conquer and to boss nature and improve our affairs.
The journeys between Ghana and the Republic of Congo has exposed me fully and partially to airports in four countries. Fully to KIA and Agostinho Neto airport in Pointe Noire.
Partially to Houphet Boigny airport in Abidjan and the Bole International airport in Addis Ababa. Four different experiences. This is what I'm about discussing in joint writings with a reading-writing boss - Ewurama Judith Kodjo, the curvy one.
17 Jumada Thanii, 1440 = 23 January, 2019
The closest an ordinary public school child came to the airport was on rare class excursions. I was once such an ordinary school child, only that I never went on one such excursion.
But I schooled for almost 12 years close to the KIA. Nine years in Burma Camp we had to endure the noise of planes arriving and departing - taking off and landing, that's more appropriate.
Then three years in St. Thomas Aquinas Senior High, where we waited almost 30 seconds for planes to pass before teaching could continue - approximately five times daily. Still, I never once dreamt of air transport.
Our holidays were usually spent in the neighbourhood, if we were lucky with an auntie outside Accra.
For us the Shaban kids, the closest we came to air travel was thanks to our "borga" uncle, Mustapha Idriss - he is the last born and only male on my mother's side. HRH Hajia Fati is the firstborn - Fati no dey carry last.
 |
| Ze Shaban SIX: Rayhann (R), Somebody, Fuleira (top left), Mariam (L) Sherifa (bottom left), Sherif |
He always sprang a surprise when coming back, either called our big brother Rayhann to supposedly receive his friend or said he needed some stuff picked from a friend at the airport then, boom; there he was. Later we figured his pranks and always guessed right on his coming.
When he was going was the best opportunity we had to go to the airport. He usually went in the evenings when we had returned from school, lucky you if you get chosen to join the loaded taxi. He checked in and came out for last meeting chats till boarding time.
Ours was to look up (ask kids) when the airplanes flew miles above us and make the childish wish that the pilot and passengers will buy us stuff on their return journey. The inside of an airplane was known to us only via the television and books.
Seeing uncle's passport and bulky air tickets - Alitalia, Lufthansa and Swiss Air, it never crossed at least my mind when I'd also get to travel needing so many papers. Then times we lived and dreamt of making it at home - after school, work, marry, get kids, grow old and ...... die.
The only time travel popped up was when we thought of the fifth pillar of Islam, Hajj - pilgrimage to Makkah. Even with that believed it was best done when we grow old and go discharge it - we have revised that position.
Talk of Hajj, it was the event that brought us our first air travel. Hajia Fati hustled boys and girls till we did "susu" - savings, and footed the bills of her Hajj years back.
 |
| Hajia Fati - our boss since way back till date |
I find it an experience that everyone must have a feel of. The fact that one gets to leave behind the on-ground means and gets to savour the skies is indeed a sign of how God has given man knowledge to conquer and to boss nature and improve our affairs.
The journeys between Ghana and the Republic of Congo has exposed me fully and partially to airports in four countries. Fully to KIA and Agostinho Neto airport in Pointe Noire.
Partially to Houphet Boigny airport in Abidjan and the Bole International airport in Addis Ababa. Four different experiences. This is what I'm about discussing in joint writings with a reading-writing boss - Ewurama Judith Kodjo, the curvy one.
17 Jumada Thanii, 1440 = 23 January, 2019
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