We heard an almighty scream at Mole National Park, followed by a loud crash in the hotel room next door. Ran into the adjoining room to find the white American guy there all red-faced on his back on the floor. Blood poring from a gash on his forehead.
Said he left his room door opened while he went outside to fetch documents from his hired car parked nearby. He got back to the room surprised to find a baboon stretched out on his bed, eating his freshly baked Butter Bread.
He had tried to befriend the baboon at first, doing his best Doctor Dolittle impersonation. But the raging baboon leapt up at him with wild maddening eyes, “like one of those corned meth-head rednecks back home,” he said.
“And I would-a-stood my ground with him, as well, if I was back in the States,” he carried on later, trying to make light of an embarrassing situation. “I’m from Texas, man. We open carry out there.”
He paused for a moment, punctuated by a hearty self-conscious chuckle. But no one else was laughing. We were all thinking about whether he might have caught Ebola, despite knowing that there was no known incident of the deadly disease in Ghana.