Meat Whip

Air Kante


A twisted piece of animal hide swings from Air Kante’s rearview mirror. Imagine an enlarged wishbone made of stiff, furry animal skin. The top forms a handle out of which two slinky strands of goat hide emerge like the “accent” on the bangs of your prom date in 1993. Cute. The odd ornament is not unique to this bush taxi and I am not inspired to actually ask any questions about the object. Please see artist rendition to the left.

The street of Togo is home to bush taxis, motos, and most importantly trucks. Besides your everyday traffic on your everyday two lane national street, there are animals, people biking, walking with serious tonnage on their heads, and potholes. The traffic is not so intense in Togo that people are compelled to look when crossing. If you are not in one of the towns that hugs the street (Kanté, Sotouboua, Niamtougou), there is a high probability that you can cross without looking and not get hit. Of course crossing any street without looking is a gamble and most people are aware enough to look before crossing. Left, right, left.

Flying south in Air Kante, the greatest bush taxi in all of Togo, an older man on a bike decides to float across the street of Togo. Lucky for him, the chauffeur for Air Kante is highly skilled in dodging the numerous obstacles that present themselves on a journey through Togo. Much like colleagues from Air France, safety is Air Kante’s number one priority. Bike man had a brush with death and probably did not even realize how close he was to the end. The driver is not happy. End of story? I think not my dear human rights loving friends.

Instead of just driving forth and high-five-ing to the fact that we did not kill another human being, the driver immediately swerves right to the side of the road and pulls down the meaty rope from the rearview mirror and hands it to his co-pilot in the passenger seat. Driving 20 kilometers an hour, the co-pilot hangs out of the window and whips the old man on the bike. It is a meat whip hanging from the rearview.

Stunned, I struggle to look back to see if the old man is still pedaling along. Slowly but surely the old man pedals. For the next hour of the car ride conversation does not stray from the man on the bike. The last word on the subject: “That man is lucky to be alive”.