Don't say No No to the Tro Tro

We’ve been in Ghana for a week now and it’s been amazing.  Exhausting and overwhelming, sure -- but mainly amazing.  We’re currently in a location a few hours northeast of Accra and in the first official week of training.

For me, each day feels like a week – it’s hard to believe that I can learn Twi, nuances about the Ghanaian culture and safety and security; receive vaccinations until my arms is about to fall off;  AND get to know a group of kind, energetic, talented and diverse individuals.  There is so much to learn and I am doing my best to embrace knowledge with open arms. 

Last week, we had “Accra Quest” where we ventured into the capital armed with 10 cedis, minimal Twi, and a few of our counterparts to locate various sites around the city.  We were prepared via a mini tour on our first day, a map, and a hilarious skit introduction to life on a tro, which was our mode of transportation to and from our current location.  Please google “tro.”  I have no idea what will come up, but it’s bound to be ridiculous.  At least, that was our experience.  More on this later.

My group (Heather and Sheila!) waited at the main road and quickly found a tro to Madina, then Madina to Accra.  Sure, we were squeezed together and the man in the front seat to Madina was blaring what sounded like a football announcer yelling for a goal, but we made it to Accra in a little over an hour with no issues. 

“Close your fly!”  A taxi driver yelled from a distance about my sweat-soaked pants.  Thanks, extremely straightforward Ghanaian man.  If not for you, I’d likely have walked around Accra as the obruni (white person) with her fly down.  So far, bluntness is my favorite quality of Ghanaians.  Once someone calls me “fat,” which apparently means “healthy,” I may think differently. 

On with the quest – first came the National Theatre.  We walked across the street and were confronted by two “guards” sitting under a tree talking to a man.  They lightly interrogated our purpose at the theatre and told us we can walk around. 

We asked the standing man to take our photo and he obliged, making sure we took several angles of the three of us smiling.  When done, he asked for money for food and I handed him 10 pesewa.  Ten pesewa is enough to buy a small bag of water (yes, bag) and he made it known.  “I can’t get any food with this!”  We said we had no more money and went on our way.  Lesson learned.

On to our way to the next sites, Independence Square and the Accra stadium, we walked through a tro station and were quickly engrossed by the smell of raw sewage.  As health and water sanitation water workers, we were exposed to one of the main sanitation issues in Ghana.  We made our way through the station and were offered various items for purchase – water, mentos, fried dough, smoked fish, etc.  It was tough to feel hungry amidst the smell.   Besides, we were on a mission.

The stadium is impressive, as is Independence Square, which serves as a reminder of when Ghana achieved independence from the UK in 1957.  There wasn’t much traffic for a Saturday, and we quickly took a picture, asked where the presidential castle was located, and hopped into a tro back to the station.  We then caught a tro to Madina after a little confusion and were on our way. 

Things were almost moving too smoothly.  It looked like we were going to be back early.  Of course, this couldn’t last for long.  Our tro made a detour and dropped us off in the middle of the city of Madina, not the station.  We asked to go there and they told us that we needed to get off in the city.  Uh oh.

Pardon my language, but hoooly shit.  Madina was much more bustling than the part of Accra where we ventured.  There were people hawking goods everywhere, tons of traffic, and more consecutive honking than I’ve ever heard in my life.  People were busy and we were confused. 

I’ll spare you many of the details, but it took about an hour just to get out of the city and to the station, which was no more than half a kilometer away.  We all kept our cool, asked for directions, and shared a laugh when we realized that people with whom we never spoke knew which tro we were trying to catch.  Overall, the people were helpful and friendly. 

We did receive directions from a girl that led us the wrong way down a road where we encountered a Ghanaian street shouting match.  Man vs. parking attendant.  Been there, done that, but not with quite as much fervor nor with an audience.  Oh yeah, and the attendant could only cite me through a ticket, not by placing tire damaging spikes in front of the car.  With a line full of traffic, the violator couldn’t back up nor could he go forward.  Best just to pay the fine, buddy.  Just not without a fight.

We eventually made it back via a couple of tros and a some friendly Ghanaians.  Turns out, there was no rush.  We were still among the first few groups back.  We agreed that though it threw a wrench in our intended course, we learned a great deal on the detour that will serve us well in the future.  We also impressed ourselves by staying cool-headed – not an easy thing to do in the hot Ghanaian sun.

That’s all for now, folks!  I have many more stories to tell, but little time to tell them.  I will keep you updated as much as possible.  In the meantime, feel free to send me letters (or packages, hehe) to the following address:

Alisa Langford, PCT

Peace Corps
PO Box 5796
Accra-North, Ghana
West Africa

Much love to you all!