The Road to Tamale
DAY TWO
Wednesday, May 10th, 2006
After having trouble sleeping, I relaxed on the terrace of the hotel and watched the sunrise in Africa for the first time. By 5:45 everyone else was up, and we hastily packed and headed out to the State Transport bus terminal to board our bus to Accra. The scheduled departure for the bus was 8am, but the bus didn't actually arrive to the terminal until around 9am. We thought this was a disturbance, but from what we knew about the culture, we had come to expect it. The MoFArians, who had left the day before, had actually waited almost 5 hours to depart. We boarded the bus for our 12 hour journey to Tamale.
We left Accra, and headed NW through Koforidua through lush rainforests and an expansive construction project that saw most of the infrastructure of the highway being rebuilt. At first the delay did not bother us too much, but the same could not be said for the driver. The rest of the journey was spent at speeds not much lower than 120kmh, with many close calls, and even some smaller vehicles being forced off the road.
PHOTO CAPTION: Luke Brown, LTOV from Western, sits in the aisle for the trip to Tamale. His seat offered a poor view and poorer back support, but he took it all with a grin.
Ghanaian roads are amongst the most dangerous in the world, and this is something that I can certainly speak for. As evening approached, the impending thunderstorm and darkness did not ease our fears.
We travelled through Kumasi to Sunyani, as the lush rainforest gradually decreased in density until it became savannah. This occurred as darkness fell over the country, and the rains hit.
PHOTO CAPTION: The scenery slowly shifts from beautiful rainforest to a sparse savannah. This picture was taken during travel as we passed Kumasi.
Every three hours throughout the journey, we stopped at a local ST station for bathroom breaks and some snacks. Being relatively new to the culture, we stuck to what looked familiar. Plantains, loaves of sugar bread, salted plantain chips, and of course, sachet water packs, a phenomenon I will explain in detail when I look at water and sanitation indepth at a later date.
When not at a rest stop, the bus is approached by dozens of women selling everything from napkins, to q-tips, to 20 gallon jugs of olive oil, all perched mercilessly on their heads in quanities you could not imagine unless you saw it in person. They surround the bus yelling what they are selling as soon as it slows to below 20kmh.
In urban areas where the bus is slowed down, a large crowd forms outside the bus, and as we again pick up speed, the sounds of dozens of flip-flops cracking against the compacted dirt echoes through the bus. These sounds are of the women running alongside the bus, trying to complete their transactions. In some instances, the bus pulls away too quickly, leaving some bus passengers with product they have not yet paid for, or in other instances, have paid for or not yet received their change. In each of these circumstances, the issue was resolved in a number of ways.
Usually, when a transaction goes incomplete, most passengers yell at the driver to stop or slowdown so that the merchants can collect their money or returned product.
PHOTO CAPTION: As the bus speeds past village after village, we take in the sights and sounds of Western Ghana at 130kmh.
In other cases, the women toss off their flip-flops, raise their skirt to their knees, and sprint alongside the bus until they are in arms reach to return the change they took from the customer.
Lastly, if all else fails, the customer will return the product if it has not yet been paid for. Such an incident occurred several times on our day long journey to Tamale. One being when a bag of red peppers was not paid for, the passenger through the bag onto the side of the road, only to see the bag split open and peppers roll in every direction. The bus let out a unanimous moan, but the woman was still grateful that the product was returned.
In no circumstance was an item taken without being paid for, or no change returned. This is the social framework on which Ghanaians operate. One that I will get used to rather quickly.
The red dirt of the savannah rises up in an impenetrable cloud as we speed across the western region, slowing down for few if any other objects or people. The logging trucks take up most of the road, with their rainforest stumps weighing down the truck to the point of tipping. We wearily pass them, and in some instances, do so with just centimeters to spare between the truck and our bus.
This goes on long into the night, and we arrive in Tamale at 10pm. 13 hours after our journey has begun. We have arrived in Tamale.
This was Day Two.
Wednesday, May 10th, 2006
After having trouble sleeping, I relaxed on the terrace of the hotel and watched the sunrise in Africa for the first time. By 5:45 everyone else was up, and we hastily packed and headed out to the State Transport bus terminal to board our bus to Accra. The scheduled departure for the bus was 8am, but the bus didn't actually arrive to the terminal until around 9am. We thought this was a disturbance, but from what we knew about the culture, we had come to expect it. The MoFArians, who had left the day before, had actually waited almost 5 hours to depart. We boarded the bus for our 12 hour journey to Tamale.
We left Accra, and headed NW through Koforidua through lush rainforests and an expansive construction project that saw most of the infrastructure of the highway being rebuilt. At first the delay did not bother us too much, but the same could not be said for the driver. The rest of the journey was spent at speeds not much lower than 120kmh, with many close calls, and even some smaller vehicles being forced off the road.
PHOTO CAPTION: Luke Brown, LTOV from Western, sits in the aisle for the trip to Tamale. His seat offered a poor view and poorer back support, but he took it all with a grin.
Ghanaian roads are amongst the most dangerous in the world, and this is something that I can certainly speak for. As evening approached, the impending thunderstorm and darkness did not ease our fears.
We travelled through Kumasi to Sunyani, as the lush rainforest gradually decreased in density until it became savannah. This occurred as darkness fell over the country, and the rains hit.
PHOTO CAPTION: The scenery slowly shifts from beautiful rainforest to a sparse savannah. This picture was taken during travel as we passed Kumasi.
Every three hours throughout the journey, we stopped at a local ST station for bathroom breaks and some snacks. Being relatively new to the culture, we stuck to what looked familiar. Plantains, loaves of sugar bread, salted plantain chips, and of course, sachet water packs, a phenomenon I will explain in detail when I look at water and sanitation indepth at a later date.
When not at a rest stop, the bus is approached by dozens of women selling everything from napkins, to q-tips, to 20 gallon jugs of olive oil, all perched mercilessly on their heads in quanities you could not imagine unless you saw it in person. They surround the bus yelling what they are selling as soon as it slows to below 20kmh.
In urban areas where the bus is slowed down, a large crowd forms outside the bus, and as we again pick up speed, the sounds of dozens of flip-flops cracking against the compacted dirt echoes through the bus. These sounds are of the women running alongside the bus, trying to complete their transactions. In some instances, the bus pulls away too quickly, leaving some bus passengers with product they have not yet paid for, or in other instances, have paid for or not yet received their change. In each of these circumstances, the issue was resolved in a number of ways.
Usually, when a transaction goes incomplete, most passengers yell at the driver to stop or slowdown so that the merchants can collect their money or returned product.
PHOTO CAPTION: As the bus speeds past village after village, we take in the sights and sounds of Western Ghana at 130kmh.
In other cases, the women toss off their flip-flops, raise their skirt to their knees, and sprint alongside the bus until they are in arms reach to return the change they took from the customer.
Lastly, if all else fails, the customer will return the product if it has not yet been paid for. Such an incident occurred several times on our day long journey to Tamale. One being when a bag of red peppers was not paid for, the passenger through the bag onto the side of the road, only to see the bag split open and peppers roll in every direction. The bus let out a unanimous moan, but the woman was still grateful that the product was returned.
In no circumstance was an item taken without being paid for, or no change returned. This is the social framework on which Ghanaians operate. One that I will get used to rather quickly.
The red dirt of the savannah rises up in an impenetrable cloud as we speed across the western region, slowing down for few if any other objects or people. The logging trucks take up most of the road, with their rainforest stumps weighing down the truck to the point of tipping. We wearily pass them, and in some instances, do so with just centimeters to spare between the truck and our bus.
This goes on long into the night, and we arrive in Tamale at 10pm. 13 hours after our journey has begun. We have arrived in Tamale.
This was Day Two.
posted by Kyle at 23:59
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home