Ghana Before AC

My parents put up with me pretty well while they were here, and I credit them for it.  I think it’s probably my tolerance for the least expensive mass transit in Ghana that caused the main point of contention.

After five days rest in Anloga we set out for Ho with Bridget, traveling by tro-tro.  We had the intention of visiting my Ghanaian sister–and Bridget’s real sister–Felicia.  According to every map I’ve seen, there’s a somewhat direct route to Ho from Anloga that involves traveling to the west, then north, a route that makes good sense, our destination city being northwest of here.  That mystical northern road must be long gone, however, because as far as anyone around here can tell us the only way to Ho is to take a tro-tro east to the border city of Aflao, then turn north, then eventually west, boomeranging back towards the center of the Volta Region.

I don’t mind the journey so much, but I must make some admissions about it.  First of all there are some bumps.  They are the kind of bumps that launch you from your seat, granting you moments of weightlessness, like mid-flight turbulence.  In a tro-tro, unlike a plane, there are no seat-belts to preclude the impending spinal injury.  You become painfully aware of this as you rocket upwards toward the ceiling of the van.

Also, it is dusty.  I’ve spoken a lot about the harmattan dust, but the dusting you receive in a tro-tro is far more immediate and far more red.  The worst parts of the road are where the asphalt has been destroyed and the red clay beneath is all that remains.  When it is hot and dry, the clay becomes dust, and the dust rises into the air, cars, and nostrils of people passing by.  There are entire towns along the road that are stained red from the dust, though I’m sure they’re squeaky clean after that epic rain we had the other day.

I digress because the real peak from our journey to Aflao wasn’t actually the road in, but the road out.  At the Aflao station we loaded into the next tro-tro to Ho and were on our way–just as soon as we got a push start.  It takes several men to push a tro-tro full of people and luggage, the van starting, sputtering along, dying again, the men pushing, waiting, then jogging to catch up with the floundering vehicle.  Eventually we made it about a block from the station but the tro-tro died again.

There was dissent from the passengers inside, a well dressed woman furiously chastising the driver, the couple to her left talking in low tones about finding another vehicle, me laughing, my parents waiting patiently, then the well dressed woman exiting the vehicle to have her sandals shined, the rest of us eventually joining her on the dusty roadside.  The pit crew pushed the van once more and away it went–full of baggage but empty of passengers–down the road and out of sight.  It seemed that the machine was self conscious, not liking to warm up in front of its audience.  A few minutes later the tro-tro rounded the corner, seemingly ready to perform.  We all boarded and the rest of the trip went off without a hitch.

Until three blocks from the station in Ho, when the tro-tro ran out of gas.  Despite the obvious proximity of our destination, no one got out and walked.  Instead, we waited, the driver fetching gasoline, then waiting for traffic to clear, the tro-tro then drifting backwards down the hill, then turning around and rolling forward down the same hill in the wrong direction, eventually being slammed into gear and springing to life.  About twenty-five blocks away from the station we found an opportunity to turn around.  The rest of the journey was uneventful.  It was a prime opportunity for us to learn something, a lesson in value, in getting one’s money’s worth.

The journey was long, hot, tiring, and humorous to varying degrees. It was probably hottest for Mama Skeers, who was sitting just above the exhaust pipe on an uninsulated wheel-well.  I’m pretty sure I thought it was most funny.  In the end we saw Felicia and her baby girl Joanna, and we found a nice hotel in which my parents slept soundly.

Oh, and the hotel had AC.