I Love Trotros

I have come to terms with it: I love trotros.

When I first had to deal with them they were so intimidating; they were fast, crowded and seemed to be run by a madhouse. Yesterday I sat down on an Accra trotro for the first time in months and felt so content and happy. I didn't really understand it. Later on that day I was on a trotro again and I turned to my friend Tess and said "I love trotros!" As was her prerogative, she burst out laughing at me. Typical.

But I do. I really love them - I love sitting amongst all Ghanaians on the local public transport, being jostled around and passing money over shoulders and driving at speeds much too fast for the quality of the road.

Some of my bet experiences have been on trotros. It was trotros that taught me so much about the culture; it was trotros that got me lost, trotros that got me home, trotros that got me friends.

In Kumasi I sat down in a trotro, turned to the mate and said "Eye sen?" (how much?) and he began laughing, then said amidst giggles "Twenty pesewa." I handed him the money, smiled and shook my head. TIA man. Then a man in the back of the trotro shouted to me, "Hey, I will talk to the mate for you when you get off." I looked at him confused and he repeated himself. Then he asked the mate in Twi what had happened, then he shouted forward to me, "Wo te Twi?!" I responded "Me te Twi kakra kakra" (I speak Twi a little bit). By this point the entire trotro is laughing and smiling in excitement. I bonded with every member of that trotro in sixty seconds, and it was all because of a trotro.

On my last day in Accra in February I remember standing outside the University of Ghana campus waiting for a trotro. Getting a trotro to Newtown was always a royal pain, especially if it was after five in the evening. I have countless stories about that trip, but here's just one. It had just poured outside and was still lightly raining. Note to the next traveler: never try to get a trotro after it rains. They're packed and rarely have room. That was my experience - I stood outside in the cold (yes, cold in Ghana) for two hours. I considered taking a taxi - 10 cedi - absolutely not, compared to the normally 70 pesewa ride.

So I waited. Every time a Newtown trotro came along it was full to bursting, and the one time one had a space a woman ran in front of me and jumped on. I was desperate and close to giving up.

Then a trotro pulls up, the mate hanging out the window shouting "NewtownNewtownNewtown!" I start chasing it. The mate hangs out the window looking at me and asks "Newtown?" "yes!" "Newtown?" "YES!" He was clearly surprised and disbelieving. The trotro rolled to a stop and people began running. Strategically the mate turns his back to the door on the inside then slowly rolls the door open on the van, leaving only enough space between him and the door frame for me to sneak under his arm and sit down in the one remaining space. People were shouting as we began to drive away, and one man even jumped in the trotro and sat on the mate's lap.

Everyone in the trotro was laughing. I almost proposed to the mate.

I've had countless experiences like this where I've met and bonded with Ghanaians over a bus trip. Trotros have given me so much, despite the trouble and even hell they have put me through. But as I write about them I have a knowing smile on my face.

As crazy as many of my friends may think I am over here, I gotta admit it: I love trotros.