Round and round the tro tro goes... where it stops no one knows...!!!

This will be, sadly, a pictureless update.

Taking a picture on a Tro Tro would be

1. Invasive to the 20+ random strangers smushed into a beat-up van from the 90s
2. Impossible do to your sweaty hands - surrounded (on 2 sides!) by people makes every pore in your body sweat
3. An invitation to have your bag taken
4. A risk to your health - as many times... you need both hands to hold on.

Despite all of this... most days I spend upwards of 2+ hours of my day flying down dusty, Accra roads (when not stuck in bumper to bumper traffic jams) to the beat of a local preacher who has decided that he wants to share The Good News, deafening hiphop music, or the cell phone conversation of the driver who graciously holds my life in his hands as well as the many others filing in next to me.

But let me back up.

For those of you yet to experience Africa... or who have done so in a Lorry, suped up 4x4, private vehicle hire, or on the back of a motorcycle... I will explain.

Sigh.

A tro tro...

(or shared minibus as tro tro is merely the Ghanain word... but by no means the inventor of this mass transit system)

... is a converted van meant to maybe transport 6-7 people that now holds around 20. Operated by a driver and a Mate - who takes the payment and operates the door. He lets people on and off and you have to tell him where you are going to be able to calculate the fair. Lucky for me, fares are really affordable as this is as local as transport gets... minus walking.

How do you fit 20 people into a Ford van? While it is definitely 3-to-a-seat (as per school bus days) and then a fold down seat on the aisle so that people behind you can get on and off.

Yes, this means that if the person behind you wants off... and you are on the aisle (which oddly, I always am!) you have to wiggle your way out of the van and back on. And fast - time is money people!

How do you know where you are going? Great question. Instead of a flashing sign or specific route... each Tro Tro chooses where it wants to go. The Mate will make hand signals out of the window - and you flag the Tro Tro down by showing the signal you want... making a circle with your hand means to Circle, pointing down means Roundabout. These are two popular landmarks in Accra. Did I mention there are no recognizable street names? But you better know the junction (intersection) where you wish to deboard!

Don't ask me the difference between a Circle and a Roundabout. There isn't one.

So, piled in. You tell the Mate your destination - hand him between $0.50 and $0.75 and off we go!

When you see your stop, simply say "Mate, Bus stop." exit the vehicle with hopefully as many limbs as you entered... and you've survived the Tro Tro.

Easy right?

Yesterday proved not so much as on my way to work as I shimmied along to squish myself in between a few businessmen I ripped a hole in the "seat" of my skirt along the rusty, jagged window ledge. At least it was just my skirt... clothes don't need a tetanus shot.

So, what is a girl to do? Gettnig enough attention already... couldn't walk around with a rip in my "seat"... so just turned the skirt around... and off we went... dashing across 6 lanes of traffic, past the outdoor urinal (a ditch beside a busy highway), past the boxes of perfume for sale on the sidewalk, around several ladies with different wooden boxes of baked goods/eggs on their heads to sell.... and onto my next Tro Tro ride to work.

I survived. Stopped by a local fabric strore to enquire if they had a similar material to make myself another skirt. They didn't, but would go into the city and let me know a price for material on Thursday.

More skirts equals less laundry-by hand. Please don't judge. It's really hot and washing your clothes in a bucket is only fun for so long.

On the way home... another adventure. Instead of my Madina Tro Tro taking the normal route home... traffic was bad.... so it decided to take another route. OK... but what does that mean for me whose stop was skipped?

Well it means that my 45 minute commute turned into just less than 3 hours.

Made it to Madina, backtracked to a station I am familiar with... and then waited with about 200 other people to get home.

I could only laugh to myself as people risked their lives running alongside moving vehicles to get a spot on a Tro Tro. This is of course before they know if it is event their route!

A man just shook his head, asked me where I was going... and said, "This is our transit system."

Nevertheless, I refuse to fight and push people to get a spot... which meant I stood on the side of the road for about 40 minutes. I think Ghana might toughen this girl up! :)

Finally, a shared taxi arrived for American House. My route - and luckily a guy held a spot for me.

That of course translated into him trying to pay for me. And an attempt to get my phone number.

Hint: Gentlemen of the world - ask her name before you ask for her number.

But I made it home. Well after dark. Ready for a cold shower and bed.

I love Accra. Dusty, sweaty Tro Tros and all.