Tweet Well, ever since my Cape Coast adventure a week ago, I have felt more comfortable with the land of trotros. Sure, I haven't quite gotten down the hand signals that resemble gang signs or even understand how to properly transfer from trotro to trotro. Hell, some days, I can't even understand what the man is yelling. I just get on the car headed in the right direction and say a prayer. Overall though, the experience isn't that bad.
I am happy to report that I haven't been forced to sit next to anyone with a super strong body odor or had a goat in the back of my trotro, as some of my other friends. However, I have noticed one disturbing thing about the trootros; the unavoidable duel for a seat.
You see trotros are private vehicles and as a result, they don't really care more than 20 passengers at a time. In fact, most of them carry somewhere between 12-18 passengers. They also don't have a set schedule, so they come when they come. Whether it is the traffic, a train or the trotro there is always a time where there is a peak number of passengers and well, with no set schedule, trotro rush hour will inevitably go bad- for some.
Well, yesterday was my first rush hour and I quickly notice that getting a seat in trotro is much like life, "Only the strongest pervail." When I tell you noone is excluded from an elbow or strong push, I mean noone. Last night, I saw mamas with babies on their backs getting elbowed and let's not talk about how the old ladies are pushed to the side like ragdolls.
It was like a bad game of musical chairs. At first, I refused to play, but after missing a few trotros because of the madness, I decided the only way to survive was to play the game. So as the next trotro approached and I heard a stop going in my direction, I quickly took my position and elbowed down anyone who came without 5 feet, while humming Ludacris. Harsh, you say? Ha, I got my seat, because we all know, I am a survivor.
Until The Next Time. Smooches.