Serious wahala for oyiboland

It was 7:39 a.m. European Time on a not-too-exciting day in April 2014, and I didn’t know how to describe how I felt at that moment - Should I be angry or happy?

Well, I guess a mixture of the two, since I was finally leaving for home after about a week's sojourn in Europe on official duty.

As a matter of fact, I was writing this piece tens of thousands of miles above sea level, onboard Turkish flight TK 1942 from Brussels to Istanbul, where I would connect a flight to Accra.

Yet, I was angry that I had been tagged as a drug dealer before I finally got on board the Turkish flight to Istanbul en route to Accra. “Me a drug courier? Preposterous!

“This is what I need, after so much wahala in Brussels where I covered the 4th EU-Africa conference,” I said to myself.

Do you want to know how I got that tag? Then come with me to the end as I recount some of my sweet and sour moments in Denmark and Brussels.

How it all began

Twelve African journalists, including five Ghanaians, were selected by International Media Support (IMS), an organisation headquartered in Copenhagen, Denmark, to take part in a week-long Green Growth Study Tour of three Danish cities - Copenhagen, Aalborg and Aarhus, from February to March 2014.

Indeed, those times would always be remembered as one of the wonderful moments of my life, as we learned a lot and had some fun touring those three beautiful Danish cities.

It was as a follow up to that visit, that two out of the team, Janet Otieno from Kenya and I, were invited once again by IMS, barely a month afterwards, to meet with some Danish key officials and also get the opportunity to report on the two-day EU-AFRICA Summit in Brussels, Belgium.

Although preparations were a bit hasty because there was not much time, both invitees were able to secure visas for the trip.

So it was, that the two of us landed in Copenhagen for the second time in a month, on Sunday, March 30, my colleague from Kenya arriving first. We both checked in at the same hotel (First Hotel Twenty Seven), thus bringing back fond memories from the previous visit.

My wahala begins

But despite the smooth flights I enjoyed from Accra to Istanbul and from Istanbul to Denmark, I was to receive the rudest shock of my life on arrival at the Copenhagen Airport - my luggage was nowhere in sight.

After a flight delay of an hour, I had to spend another two hours at the airport checking and rechecking that indeed my luggage did not come with me, and finally lodging a complaint and filling a form. This was after I had joined a fairly long queue of people who had also suffered the same predicament.

So how was I going to cope with the situation? It was not my first time though, but it had been a long time since I last lost my luggage.

Thankfully, when all was done and it was certain that I was going to live my first or maybe all days in Denmark without a change of cloth, I went out to meet worried Hanne (pronounced Hannah) my host, still waiting to pick me up to my hotel.

Thanks Hanne. It might have been double agony or tragedy if I had missed you on top of it all, after my almost 24 - hour travel. I left home on Saturday, March 29, at 6:15 p.m. and arrived in Copenhagen after 6 p.m. and the hotel at about 9 p.m. It was quite a wonder that all my senses were working when I entered my room at the First Hotel Twenty Seven.

No change of clothes

Work began in earnest on Monday with a visit to two NGOs - one in the morning and the other later in the afternoon.

But there was still no news of my luggage by evening and I still had on the shirt I wore from home on Saturday. Did I have a choice? I guess not.

Thankfully though, I was able to get a shirt and underwear with the little money I was given for my meals and got a toothbrush from the hotel, so I was ready to go and I braced myself for the worst.