Travelling Ghanaian Style
Published by Trevor Whitney on Sunday, August 12, 2007 at 11:17 AM.
** I added two posts today so don't forget to read the one below first **
Written: August 5, 2007
It is early in the morning and the hot African sun is still in hiding. In the background I hear the morning prayers being played over loudspeakers at the nearby mosque. As I wake up in my small room at the House of Lords Hotel in Accra, I can’t help but think that if I were at home in Canada I would certainly still be sleeping at this hour on a Saturday. I however am not at home, and I have a bus to catch. Today I am traveling from the capital city of Accra in the south, to the city of Tamale in the Northern region of Ghana.
The bus does not leave until 8:00, but I have no clue what to expect so I arrive at the STC bus station at 6:45 to be safe. There are only a handful of people there this early. I speak with one of them who explains that I need to place my luggage in line to be weighed so I do so and then go to one of the food stands to get some breakfast and snacks for the trip.
It does not take long before the bus station is full of people. A while later the luggage weigher comes out and everything turns to chaos. There was really no point in me putting my bag in line as everyone picks up there belongings and rushes towards the scale. I eventually work my way towards the scale, and being an Obruni (white person), they quickly grab my bag and weigh it.
After paying and loading my luggage I board the bus and find my seat. As I sit down my knees bang the seat in front of me. Awesome!! The seats are so close together that I have to spread my legs and my knees are still wedged up against the seat in front of me. I eventually find a comfortable position just as the bus is pulling out of the station around 9:00am, only an hour late.
Living in Vancouver I thought that commuting over the Port Mann Bridge during rush hour was bad traffic, but I was wrong. Driving in Accra brings a whole new meaning to the word. We were crawling along single lane for almost two hours to get out of Accra. You know the traffic is bad when there are people walking alongside you with baskets of bread, oranges, and water for sale.
Once out of Accra the road to Tamale takes you through Kumasi, Tachiman and Kintampo. On the way to Kumasi the bus was having a tough time going up hills and started beeping. When we reached the bus stop in Kumasi the bus disappeared into the mechanic’s shed for about half an hour. By the time we got back on the bus and on the road again it was 6:00, already about 3 hours behind schedule.
About 45 minutes after leaving the bus station in Kumasi I am woken up out of my sleep by passengers hustling and bustling about. I realize the bus has pulled over to the side of the road and everyone is starting to get off the bus. Unsure what exactly is going on I follow them off the bus and crouch down alongside the rest of the passengers. I look under the bus to see some part of the front suspension hanging down to the ground.
Canadians are usually very timid in these types of situations. Ghanaians on the other hand have no problem voicing their opinion. I walk over towards the crowd of people that is forming and everyone is surrounding the bus driver. They are all yelling at him about how the bus is no good and that they should have given us a new “fresh” bus is Kumasi. The driver however insists that mechanics are on there way and they will have no problem fixing it quickly. This only further frustrates the passengers as they continue to argue in a variety on languages.
I look across to a girl I met on the bus from the Netherlands and we both break out laughing at them as they argue back and forth. Others soon join us in laughter and we break off to find a comfortable place to sit down and relax. Eventually things calm down and the driver walks across the street and into a small field to get away from the commotion.
As I wait on the side of the road I take the opportunity to seek out the few passengers who speak English. I chat with a couple teachers, one of whom has just gotten a job at the University of Ghana as a professor of business. He is traveling to Tamale to move his family down to the big city. I also make friends with three sisters who are traveling with their parents. They are very excited to be talking with an Obruni. I ask them about life in Ghana and they try to teach me some of the local greetings. The time passes relatively quickly, but as dusk slowly turns to night we are still left stranded on the side of the road.
Finally a new-looking bus pulls up and everyone is excited to get back on the road. The excitement is unfortunately cut short when the bus doors open and two mechanics get off the bus and grab their tools from the luggage compartment. The annoyed passengers start hounding the driver again refusing to take the old bus.
Eventually some people decide to commandeer the new bus, taking their belongings and loading the new bus. Soon more people start to follow and I too grab my carry-on and claim a new seat. The driver eventually gets the ok from his supervisor for us to take the new bus and we pull away a mere 3 hours later at around 9:30.
The rest of the voyage is relatively smooth, aside from the actual road itself. The new bus even has TVs so we can watch Nigerian movies. Ohhhh the Nigerian movies. I will have to save this for another post. As for the journey we end up making good time on the final leg of the trip and arrive in Tamale at 3:00am, 6 hours behind schedule.
As I gather my things and wait to get of the bus I am rather concerned. You see Robin (the Director of West Africa Program) was suppose to be there to pick me up; however, when our bus broke down I tried calling her several times but her phone was not in service range…
Luckily as I step down off the bus I am quickly greeted by Laura, a short term overseas volunteer with EWB. We have never met before but apparently she had no problem picking out the tall white man from the crowd. I ask her how long she has been waiting and she says she has been at the bus station since 8:00pm, 7 hours!! I apologize for making her wait but she understands as her bus to Tamale also broke down and did not arrive until the following morning.
I follow Laura through the crowd and out to the parking lot where we get a taxi and head back to the EWB house in Tamale. Gillian, another short term volunteer, is also staying at the house and is awake wondering where we have been. We stay up for an hour or so chatting about my trip and then try to get a bit of sleep before it gets light out. As I crawl into bed my day ends much as it started: with the sun waiting to creep up from the horizon and the sound of Muslims at the nearby mosque taking their morning prayers.
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Written: August 5, 2007
It is early in the morning and the hot African sun is still in hiding. In the background I hear the morning prayers being played over loudspeakers at the nearby mosque. As I wake up in my small room at the House of Lords Hotel in Accra, I can’t help but think that if I were at home in Canada I would certainly still be sleeping at this hour on a Saturday. I however am not at home, and I have a bus to catch. Today I am traveling from the capital city of Accra in the south, to the city of Tamale in the Northern region of Ghana.
The bus does not leave until 8:00, but I have no clue what to expect so I arrive at the STC bus station at 6:45 to be safe. There are only a handful of people there this early. I speak with one of them who explains that I need to place my luggage in line to be weighed so I do so and then go to one of the food stands to get some breakfast and snacks for the trip.
It does not take long before the bus station is full of people. A while later the luggage weigher comes out and everything turns to chaos. There was really no point in me putting my bag in line as everyone picks up there belongings and rushes towards the scale. I eventually work my way towards the scale, and being an Obruni (white person), they quickly grab my bag and weigh it.
After paying and loading my luggage I board the bus and find my seat. As I sit down my knees bang the seat in front of me. Awesome!! The seats are so close together that I have to spread my legs and my knees are still wedged up against the seat in front of me. I eventually find a comfortable position just as the bus is pulling out of the station around 9:00am, only an hour late.
Living in Vancouver I thought that commuting over the Port Mann Bridge during rush hour was bad traffic, but I was wrong. Driving in Accra brings a whole new meaning to the word. We were crawling along single lane for almost two hours to get out of Accra. You know the traffic is bad when there are people walking alongside you with baskets of bread, oranges, and water for sale.
Once out of Accra the road to Tamale takes you through Kumasi, Tachiman and Kintampo. On the way to Kumasi the bus was having a tough time going up hills and started beeping. When we reached the bus stop in Kumasi the bus disappeared into the mechanic’s shed for about half an hour. By the time we got back on the bus and on the road again it was 6:00, already about 3 hours behind schedule.
About 45 minutes after leaving the bus station in Kumasi I am woken up out of my sleep by passengers hustling and bustling about. I realize the bus has pulled over to the side of the road and everyone is starting to get off the bus. Unsure what exactly is going on I follow them off the bus and crouch down alongside the rest of the passengers. I look under the bus to see some part of the front suspension hanging down to the ground.
Canadians are usually very timid in these types of situations. Ghanaians on the other hand have no problem voicing their opinion. I walk over towards the crowd of people that is forming and everyone is surrounding the bus driver. They are all yelling at him about how the bus is no good and that they should have given us a new “fresh” bus is Kumasi. The driver however insists that mechanics are on there way and they will have no problem fixing it quickly. This only further frustrates the passengers as they continue to argue in a variety on languages.
I look across to a girl I met on the bus from the Netherlands and we both break out laughing at them as they argue back and forth. Others soon join us in laughter and we break off to find a comfortable place to sit down and relax. Eventually things calm down and the driver walks across the street and into a small field to get away from the commotion.
As I wait on the side of the road I take the opportunity to seek out the few passengers who speak English. I chat with a couple teachers, one of whom has just gotten a job at the University of Ghana as a professor of business. He is traveling to Tamale to move his family down to the big city. I also make friends with three sisters who are traveling with their parents. They are very excited to be talking with an Obruni. I ask them about life in Ghana and they try to teach me some of the local greetings. The time passes relatively quickly, but as dusk slowly turns to night we are still left stranded on the side of the road.
Finally a new-looking bus pulls up and everyone is excited to get back on the road. The excitement is unfortunately cut short when the bus doors open and two mechanics get off the bus and grab their tools from the luggage compartment. The annoyed passengers start hounding the driver again refusing to take the old bus.
Eventually some people decide to commandeer the new bus, taking their belongings and loading the new bus. Soon more people start to follow and I too grab my carry-on and claim a new seat. The driver eventually gets the ok from his supervisor for us to take the new bus and we pull away a mere 3 hours later at around 9:30.
The rest of the voyage is relatively smooth, aside from the actual road itself. The new bus even has TVs so we can watch Nigerian movies. Ohhhh the Nigerian movies. I will have to save this for another post. As for the journey we end up making good time on the final leg of the trip and arrive in Tamale at 3:00am, 6 hours behind schedule.
As I gather my things and wait to get of the bus I am rather concerned. You see Robin (the Director of West Africa Program) was suppose to be there to pick me up; however, when our bus broke down I tried calling her several times but her phone was not in service range…
Luckily as I step down off the bus I am quickly greeted by Laura, a short term overseas volunteer with EWB. We have never met before but apparently she had no problem picking out the tall white man from the crowd. I ask her how long she has been waiting and she says she has been at the bus station since 8:00pm, 7 hours!! I apologize for making her wait but she understands as her bus to Tamale also broke down and did not arrive until the following morning.
I follow Laura through the crowd and out to the parking lot where we get a taxi and head back to the EWB house in Tamale. Gillian, another short term volunteer, is also staying at the house and is awake wondering where we have been. We stay up for an hour or so chatting about my trip and then try to get a bit of sleep before it gets light out. As I crawl into bed my day ends much as it started: with the sun waiting to creep up from the horizon and the sound of Muslims at the nearby mosque taking their morning prayers.
Good job, it almost felt like I was with you sharing the journey. I have passed your blog site along to many of my friends, so we are awaiting the next update. Hopefully with some pictures? No pressure though!!!!
Hey Trev, nice story. I took that bus to Bolga and when I told Sarah that we did not even break down once, she was shocked. We arrived early and the driver didn't show any Nigerian films! Glad you made is safely. Did you meet Ben, the left luggage guy in the airport? I am back in Vancouver now, the third bout of malaria did me in and I came home early. Stay healthy my friend!
Michelle