The commercial driving scene in Ghana is a lot different from what I have come to see in movies or read in books. The commercial buses, ‘tro-tro’ always have two important people, the drivers and the mates. The drivers of course drive the buses but the mates are the heartbeat of the tro-tro. They collect the money from the passengers riding in the bus and also ‘look’ for prospective passengers by the road. I say look but it actually involves a lot of shouting and sometimes dragging you by the hand to their own bus. There is a lot of competition going on and so the mates have to work very hard to fill up the tro-tro.  

Tro-tros in Ghana are notorious for ignoring the right of way and essentially, reckless driving. Now as a child, they amazed me. I cannot remember why but it must have been the brazen recklessness of the mates. I honestly cannot imagine a Ghana without tro-tros. It would not be the Ghana I know.

Going to primary school as a child meant that I had to find my way to and from school every day. There was no parent or guardian that could make time to take me to school and they figured I was old enough to do that on my own. And so every day by 7:30 am, I walked to school. There is something about 7:30 am on a weekday. Everyone is in a hurry by 7:30 am. Kids are on their way to school and adults are on their way to work. This is heaven for any tro-tro driver or mate. It is prime time for them to make money and get their bus full.

I was shorter than the average seven year old but that did not affect me much up until the day a tro-tro hit me. I had mentioned earlier that tro-tro drivers are known for their reckless driving habits and that day was no exception. I was walking to school and the bus hit me, I fell unconscious and it ran over my legs too. When I came to, I was lying on the road with people shouting over me. They had flagged the tro-tro down and alerted the driver that he had hit a child. There was a lot happening that I cannot remember now but I remember being in a lot of pain. 

The driver rushed me to the hospital where I was treated. Luckily for me, the tro-tro was empty and on its way to be filled up and so the damage done when it ran over my legs was not extensive. I was in the hospital for a week and have some scars to show for that event.

I am now an adult that makes use of the tro-tro on a daily basis. Sometimes when I walk on the road and a tro-tro passes by me, I am reminded of that day and my legs throb a bit. My admiration for tro-tros is long gone. They are simply a means of transport now. I wonder if it had anything to do with my accident or it was just a child-like wonder.