Monday, July 11, 2016

I’m almost halfway finished with my journey here in Ghana, and I can say with confidence that the hardest part of living here is using the public transportation. The tro tro is one of the cheapest forms of transportation here in Ghana, but I can promise you it’s not the easiest. Embarrassingly, I have only used the tro tro successfully one day out of the three weeks I’ve been here.

Every morning, I leave my house at 6:45 a.m. to try to get to work on time by 8:30 a.m. First, I have to cross one of the busiest streets in Accra to reach the stop, feeling like I’m in a real life game of Frogger. Sweating profusely while waiting, actually hoping, my van will come soon, I’m constantly on alert trying to decipher the numerous hand signals and understand what the mates are yelling above all the bustling traffic. By the way, the only way to find out if you’re truly getting on the right tro tro is to ask. I would say I’m fortunate enough to work next to another student who is on the trip, Zach, who gets off at the same stop as I do, but unfortunately we haven’t had the best luck. Granted, we’ve only had to take the tro tro three days since we’ve started working, but we’ve only arrived to work on time one morning.

The first morning, I was timid and not prepared to have to box out dozens of Ghanaians who are also trying to get to work on time. “First come, first served” is not practiced here. Once we finally found the tro tro that goes to “Accra circle,” we told the mate our stop was “waterworks” and gave him our money. The fare ranges between one cedi and two cedis (equivalent to about $0.25 – $0.60) depending on how gullible the mate thinks you are. These vans realistically only fit about twelve people, but they pack in more than twenty people like sardines. Keep in mind there is no air conditioning, and because there is bumper to bumper traffic, I’ve learned to embrace getting sweat on by complete strangers for the hour and a half commute to and from work.

The traffic is so bad here that back home, the distance to drive to work would probably only take me fifteen minutes maximum. Because we got dropped off by the group on our first day, we were aware that we worked behind the Flagstaff House, but after our van passed it, I was completely confused where we were supposed to get off. Zach said we should get off at the next stop, but I insisted we stayed on because we told the mate where we were going. I was definitely wrong. After another twenty minutes and a completely new group of people, we asked the mate how far it was and he kept telling us it was just ahead. Fortunately, or unfortunately, another man on the tro tro told us we had passed it a long time ago.

Once we got off the bus, we asked a group of policemen how far away we were, and they assured us we were within walking distance. After twenty minutes of walking (I looked like I just stepped out of the shower), we hailed a taxi. The driver also acted like he knew where we were going and took us on a fifteen minute detour all around the Flagstaff House. Twenty cedis and three hours later, I arrived at work and sat at my desk only to get shit from my coworkers who thought I just drank too much the night before for Ghana’s Republic Day.

My coworker was nice enough to make sure I got on the right van after work. The next morning, Zach and I got on the tro tro with ease, and my coworker who lives close to me drove me home after work.

This morning, I was ready to start my work week and was confident that I had mastered the tro tro. After dozens of full vans passed, we asked one of the first mates who stopped if that bus stopped at “waterworks,” which it did. Coincidently, there are two “waterworks” and we knew we were screwed as soon as it turned onto the freeway. We jumped off at the first stop and grabbed a taxi. Twelve cedis and twenty minutes later we made it to work. Late, but not horribly late.

Today was very slow for me at work, so I was all packed up and ready to leave right at 5:30 p.m. After a traumatizing conversation about religion with a local Ghanaian woman, I was flustered and got onto the tro tro that was headed toward East Legon. Even though I live in East Legon, I’m supposed to take the “Medina Adenta” van, but I was very distracted. I wasn’t even aware I got onto the wrong tro tro until a woman on the van started yelling at the mate for lying to me about going to Okponglo Junction and demanded that I get my money back. She told me which stop to “alight” at, and I had to chase after another tro tro. As if I didn’t stick out enough being Obruni…

The mate on the next tro tro overcharged me because I was told it would only be eighty pesewas, and everyone on the van laughed at me because they knew he was overcharging me. For the rest of the ride, everyone talked about me in Twi and kept looking back at me to laugh. Since the soccer game, this is the most I’ve ever felt like a skeptic.

Even before work started, I found myself in unideal situations on the tro tro, including sitting next to Ghana’s tallest man, who rested his sweaty armpit on me for the whole ride, or getting poked by a man who was definitely on drugs. Nevertheless, riding the tro tro has never been a dull experience and I will have many memories to take back home with me.