the obruni experience: the ups and downs of ghanaian transportation

Column from July 14:

At home in the United States, I am a nervous passenger. I don’t like riding in cars with people whose driving I do not trust, or riding in cars that look like they are about to break down. If I feel unsafe in a car or bus, I might even ask the driver to stop and let me out, because I would rather walk.

I have a feeling that when I return to the U.S., I won’t be bothered by this problem anymore. Over these last few weeks, I have learned to trust in the skills of other drivers, however erratic and maniacal they may seem to me.

It is astonishing to me that there are not more crashes here. A Ghanaian explained to me that since everyone here drives crazily, it’s more important to pay attention to the road – so everyone does. Perplexing to me, because I’m used to traffic police enforcing the many laws of the road, but I suppose it’s each to their own.

Riding tro-tros and taking taxis in Ghana has been a less stressful transition than I would have expected, especially given my uneasiness in the passenger seat. Although the popular methods of transport here are very different from what I’m used to at home, I don’t feel like it’s any more difficult to get around. If anything, I think I might actually say that I prefer the Ghanaian system.

As a thrifty college student, I was happy to discover how cheap it is to get around in Accra. In America, I only take taxis when I have no other option. Taxis in the U.S. charge a standard rate based on how far you want to go, and this charge adds up very quickly. In Ghana, you will never pay more than you are willing to pay for a cab, because you agree on the price with the driver beforehand.

However, some taxis here are in poor shape. The most alarming problem with this is the lack of seatbelts. Research has shown over and over that traffic accidents result in more deaths when the people involved were not wearing safety belts. I would imagine that traffic fatalities would drop in Ghana if drivers fixed and used their safety belts.

What bothers me most about the taxi situation in Ghana, though, is the inability of many cab drivers to reach a destination. Most drivers seem to only know where they are going by the instruction of the passenger. This is extremely inconvenient for an outsider like myself, which is why my chosen mode of Ghanaian transport is the local way: the tro-tro.

Tro-tros, which are unlike any mode of transportation in the U.S., didn’t look reliable to me when I first arrived. The concept of an old, dirty van rollicking along bumpy, dusty roads packed full of people didn’t rally much confidence in my skeptical obroni head.

But once I figured out how to get where I wanted to go on them, I was delighted. For one thing, they’re incredibly cheap. I find it hard to believe that such cheap rates are even possible, given the rising cost of petrol.

Like taxis, tro-tros lack seatbelts, but this doesn’t worry me as much. In tro-tros, I reason, everyone is packed too tightly most of the time for a seatbelt to even make a difference in a crash. At least that’s what I like to think – my logic could be completely off base.

As I mentioned, tro-tros are much more reliable than taxis at reaching their destinations, which is my favorite feature of “the Tro,” as my American friends sometimes call it.

Also, the Tro comes along incredibly quickly. In the U.S., I often wait half an hour for a bus. Though buses in my country are scheduled for certain times, which makes them predictable, it’s never fun to realize that you’ve just missed a bus that won’t run again for another 30 minutes. Tro-tros are like a constant stream of ants pouring from a multitude of anthills. As long as you know what anthill you’re trying to reach, there’s never a time when you won’t be able to find another tro-tro.

Though getting around in Accra was intimidating for the first week, I think I have the system down now. It’s easier, cheaper, and even safer than I expected – although if you were to sit next to while bumping down a particularly rough stretch of Ghanaian road, you could probably still hear me whimpering quietly to myself about traffic laws.