life on the road *11*

Last night i was 3 hours from Ho, the city i am currently vacationing in. Me, Senam and his brother, Senams girlfriend and another friend decided to visit some local waterfalls. They are one of the sightseeing highlights in Ghana, and after a short hike up through some "jungle" you can relax and swim at the base of it's enormous downpour. Its refreshingly beautiful and always nice to get some exercise too.
Our cab driver was late picking us up (sometime after 7 pm), which bumped us into a tro tro (overcrowded van-like cars that work as public transportation) that was completely empty. we sat in the dark for 2 more hours waiting for the car to fill up with passengers.
typically, in the west, we'd fit about 7 or 8 people in these cars and applaud ourselves for carpooling.
here, in Ghana, the car isn't considered full until at least 16 people have bought a seat.
we had 14 going, and were waiting for the last two to straggle in.
it was taking so long that i had fallen asleep on the bench directly behind the drivers seat, and had my legs sprawled over what would be the remaining two seats. when i had gone to bed just me and my friends had spots reserved. when i had awoke the entire car was full, almost.

"press close against the window" somebody told me. they were directing me to squeeze and make room.

i looked around for my friends. 2 behind me and 2 in front. check.

but why were they all laughing at me?

Dela, one of the ladies, crinkles up her entire nose until it almost hits her forehead when she laughs (i think i might do something similar). whatever they were laughing at seemed to be really funny.

senam leaned forward and patted my shoulder a few times. i turned around and asked him what was going on?

"well it looks like we are going to have to squeeze" and he pointed to the two women who had purchased the last two seats.

now, i am not one to make fun of people who are overweight, but the idea that these ladies were going to fit into this overcrowded car, and going to fit in next to me, was preposterous. even the locals thought it was funny.

these women weren't large, they were huge, and it wasn't physically possible to get all of us on one bench seat and make it there alive.

3 days earlier i witnessed the slow death of a few chickens aboard a tro tro, due to overcrowding and heat, and i wasn't about to let that happen to me.

"um i don't think so." i cried.

Dela hadn't stopped laughing.

the women were boarding.

"um no, i don't think so." i felt like a skinny stuck up white girl. but i didn't care. "we can't fit!" and i shook my head like somebody who was about to be robbed.

the driver was smirking at me, as were all the other passengers.

my friends in the front whispered back "human airbags". i felt sick that it was turning into a joke, but i suppose 40 skinny people crowded on a bench would have been just as funny. it wasn't the character behind the weight, it was the situation the weight was in.

1 of the women took up at least 2 seats. there were 2 women and we were sitting on a 4 seater. the math wasn't adding up. so Senam explained to the driver exactly why this wasn't going to work. he eventually agreed and plopped me in the front seat. i did the sign of the cross and got ready to go. some children ran up to the car and crawled onto the women's laps.

"they have kids too?" i asked Gilbert. "they expected us ALL to fit there?"

He raised his eyebrows, which is the silent way to say "yes".

i've seen some pretty amazing things here, but the law of physics holds true no matter what. the 4 seater was fitting just 2 bodies. i suppose i could have sat on their laps too, but squeezing 4 people into the front wasn't all that bad.

when i studied abroad here our country advisor told us all about the tro tros. she let us in on an unsettling secret "sit in the 3rd row back, right in the middle, that way if you get in an accident your chances of survival are higher. the bodies will cushion the blow".
it seemed like sound advice, but not really what you want to hear when you first move to a foreign country. i never forgot it though, and every time i load up i can hear her voice like a little recorder in my head. when i was asking to move, part of me was thinking, i really should volunteer to sit between the two ladies.

accidents are not rare here.

late at night in the village, when i'm sleeping, i can hear tro tros racing down the accra-kumasi road (kind of like the state highway) miles away. sometimes i swat at my ear. they go so fast it sounds like i'm about to be a mosquito's feast. then i realize what i realized the night before. its the cars, not mosquitoes. i say a little prayer for the car and then go back to bed.

the veil of youth is slowly being lifted from my eyes and mortality is something that is beginning to take a blurry shape and form.

3 years back i hitchhiked the length of Ghana with my friend Crystal, through rainstorms in the back of pick-up trucks. It was incredible, but i wouldn't do that now.

is it a small loss of sense of adventure, or the first step in acquiring a little common sense? maybe neither, maybe both. but whatever it is, at least my mom can feel a little more at peace :)