Whilst sitting on a bus at 4am, wedged between a woman with a baby and a policeman brandishing an AK47, it occurred to me that transport, in all its weird and varied forms, has been one of the defining features of my time in Ghana.
This particular journey was a long one: I was traveling back to Accra from a Travel Weekly assignment in Bolgatanga - a good 15 hour drive away. Unfortunately for me, my 8am bus - which would have got me into Accra at a comfortable 11pm - had been moved to 1pm, resulting in my ETA being exactly four hours before I was due to start work the next morning. Not one to whinge, I was stoically grinning and bearing it (well, sort of...) and had even given up my window seat without making too much of a fuss.
The reason for my relative calmness was probably down to the fact that, when put in perspective, this journey wasn't really that terrible after all. For a start, I had my own seat, a seatbelt - which, admittedly, hadn't been used for so long that once I was clipped in, the chances of managing to remove myself in an emergency were decidedly slim - and I was protected from the outside elements.
Just 24 hours before, I had been sitting on the lap of a stranger in the front seat of a crowded taxi, my bottom hovering precariously over the gear stick, on my way down a bumpy country road. Once at my destination (a sacred crocodile pond in Paga), it transpired that I would require another taxi to take me a few miles down the road. However, when no such taxi appeared, a local offered me a ride on the back of his push bike. As I balanced myself on the metal ledge over his back wheel, giggling nervously, the rider turned to me, smiled, and said, "Welcome to Africa."
Driving in Ghana is always an adventure. Sometimes the adventure is fun - you might find yourself bumping along in a bus with a few friends, singing along to a bit of Bob Marley - and sometimes it is horrendous. It is an unwritten rule that taxi and bus drivers have the authority to squeeze as many people into their vehicle as possible, whether they be sitting, standing, or lying down. On tro-tros, once the cab is full, it is not uncommon for extra passengers to be directed on to the roof to sit alongside the luggage. Animals, both wild and domestic, can also occasionally be found aboard public transport, with a friend of mine recently being presented with a fellow passenger's pet squirrel on a trip to Takoradi.
Ghana's speed limit is a matter of some mystery, as the speedometers in most vehicles tend to be broken (I have no idea why this is, but it has fascinated me for some time), allowing the passenger only an educated guess at how fast they are moving. This is probably a blessing in disguise, as out-of-city journeys tend to be taken at break-neck speed, and it is undoubtedly best to be ignorant of specifics. With many of Ghana's roads remaining badly or un-paved, it is usually best not to travel after a large meal, unless you fancy reacquainting yourself with the boiled egg that you had for breakfast.
Due to the Ghanaians' incredible capacity for religiousness, most vehicles in Ghana are decorated with Christianity-related slogans, ranging from "Clap for Jesus!", "God is Good" and "Believe in the Lord!", to - more bizarrely - sentiments like, "Trust No One", and, on one occasion, "Barack Obama". After a while, you begin to recognise certain vehicles, finding yourself saying things like, "Oh, you're going to Labadi Beach? You'd better catch 'Jesus Loves You'".
Although exciting, I have decided that when my family arrive for their week-long visit next Saturday, we shall be largely avoiding public transport in favour of a hired car and driver. This is not because my family are snobs, or, indeed, incapable of surviving a bit of discomfort now and again. Rather, it is due to my unfailing belief that the sight of my mother balancing on the roof of a tro-tro, surrounded by chickens, is not something I ever intend witnessing.
Frankie Freeman
What an absolutely wonderful post, Frankie! No, go on - strap Mum to the roof of a tro-tro - I dare you!!
Your Dad x