When we docked in Lomé, Togo at seven in the morning it was already burning hot. The stilt dancers and drummers on the dock were dripping with sweat.
Looking past the exuberant welcome I could see the hospital ship Africa Mercymoored nearby. Lines of sick and injured waited patiently to receive its mercies. The reality of West Africa with its scenes of deprivation mixed with smiles and music were before me.
Our guide and the driver pulled up in an air conditioned van and my husband, Glenn, and I gratefully slid into the delicious coolness.
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