I spent a couple of hours at the Accra International Airport one early morning last week and it set me thinking. Of course, air travel is not what it used to be in the past and nowhere is the change more noticeable than at this particular airport.
For example, before the place was expanded and gentrified, the old smaller airport housed a number of bars and restaurants where travellers and their friends and families could enjoy drinks and meals together until departure time.
Indeed, the non-travelling public could also go there for fun and watch the world go by.
There used to be a “viewing area”, which perhaps ought to have been called the waving area as it was the place from which travellers and their fans exchanged final waves.
I say “fans” because air travellers used to be regarded as some kind of celebrities and were treated as you would treat today’s millionaire footballers and film stars. It was obligatory for the traveller to stand on the last step and wave a handkerchief before disappearing into the plane.
These days, air travel has become so commonplace that no one bothers to see any one off; in any case, there is no place from which to make or see the last wave. You are just dropped off, or you drop your car at the car park and walk yourself into the departure hall without any fuss.
Accra Airport is not a friendly place even at the best of times. My misfortune was to arrive two hours too early for my check-in, which turned out to be six instead of four in the morning.
There is only a tiny seating area in the departure hall which fills up very quickly so people just loiter or look for anything on which they can perch. The alternative is to go into a little café tucked in a corner behind the selfsame seating area. That is where my story begins.
Most international airports operate on 24/7 basis but Accra appears to struggle to wake up. Definitely the workers were not at their brightest this early morning. There was a number of cleaning staff talking loudly at the entrance of the toilets beside the coffee shop.
It was not clear whether they had finished working or getting ready to start work; for the entire period I was there, they just chatted noisily, which is not the kind of atmosphere a weary traveller needs in the early morning or at any time, really.
I went to the coffee shop not because I needed refreshment but to find a seat for my tired legs, however, I decided to get a cup of tea just for company. It took quite a while for one of the two attendants behind the counter to make and bring the tea.
On the tray were one teabag, a few sugars and the equivalent of two tablespoons full of milk. It cost eight cedis. A cup of tea probably costs a lot more at major airports around the world but you would understand that you were paying for the service and not just the beverage. On this occasion, there was no service to speak of.
I sat myself at a table with four chairs and just sat. It occurred to me that this would be an ideal place to sell newspapers or even give them away for free because people coming to this café would be in the most desired advertising target group.
Moreover, they would literally be a sitting target likely to read anything. And our newspaper industry is moaning about diminishing sales…
Just as I was musing over this issue, a television set on the other side of the wall came alive. It was on a DSTV channel showing a god-awful American comedy or sitcom which may have been made in the darker parts of the last century.
For almost the entire period I endured the film, it stayed on four people; three of them were at some form of auction while another, who appeared to be the protagonist (I am only guessing) stayed on a farm surrounded by animals. It was difficult to discern the plot, if there was one, or perhaps it needed a few weeks of continuous watching for it to grow on you.
So, question: why were they showing a film like that at a café where no one was likely to spend more than an hour at most? You would understand why I said there was no service. There was no conscious effort to help the traveller to enjoy the brief moment there.
Not much thought appeared to have gone into the whole café set up – from its closeness to noisy cleaners to lack of ready hot water! That TV set was at best a distraction, but most probably a nuisance to all, who like me, had to endure its presence.
On the TV side of things, the early morning airport café was not alone in being clueless about the box’s potential as both a marketing ploy and a tool for national development.
I am not against watching DSTV, but there are more interesting stuff for transient travellers than an American sitcom; when you think about it, would it not be ideal to show a bit of Ghana to travellers, some of whom would be foreigners and tourists?
I know that most of our TV programmes are difficult to watch but here and there, one comes across some gems.
Last week, I caught a brilliant documentary on the Damba Festival of Dagbon in the Northern Region on the GBC 24 channel. It was informative, colourful with a good narration. Unfortunately, it has been “hidden” on the network’s digital channel which has not got many takers at the moment.
At the time when “24” was showing that interesting documentary, GTV, the main channel, was showing a parade of gospel singers whose only redeeming feature is that they had the cash to pay for the privilege of being on TV.
I have strayed away from the tea…The young lady who brought the beverage was not grumpy or anything like that but just showed clearly she would rather be elsewhere, perhaps in bed. The worst part came at the end when I paid for the tea.
She looked ruefully at the 20 cedi note I gave her as if it had caused her some offense or pain. Then she told me in a half-enquiring manner, “Ei, there is no change”. So we looked at each other and just stood there like two fighters in a final stalemate.
We both knew someone had to give in, but when, how and by whom. Perhaps, she wanted me to say, keep the change, which could be the easy solution – from her point of view. I am not myself averse to rewarding a definitely underpaid worker if she had rendered any bit of service, or even pretended to smile. So I stood waiting for my change. Lo and behold, without leaving the café, she managed to find change. Ghana is full of miracle makers.
As I left for check-in, it occurred to me that those in charge of tourism and more specifically, the airport, could make life a lot easier for the traveller and therefore make the travel and tourism sector more successful.
The paradox of all Ghanaian paradoxes is that while our every minute appears to be dominated by thoughts of money, we really are not focusing on how to make this country rich. We pay lip service to many things, including tourism, but we are not investing in the bolts and nuts that make them run.
At most airports elsewhere, they would have ensured that I would not walk away with my 12 cedi change by selling newspapers and magazines, showing a decent film and providing a service.
