Tro tros and mountains

I caught my first tro tro this weekend. A tro tro is basically a minibus taxi and the Ghanaian form of public transport. The advantage they have over all our british forms of public transport is that they never run late or fail to keep to schedule. This is because there is no schedule and no timetable: it simply goes when it is full. To catch a tro tro you go to the tro tro station and hope that the one going your way is nearly full - otherwise you can wait a long time for it to fill up (it is quite possible to wait several hours), the only way of speeding up this process being to pay for the extra empty seats.

Thankfully I waited only about an hour on this occasion before we set off. The interior light in the tro tro reminded me of the fan in our hotel in Cape Coast: it was swinging by a few wires from the ceiling and I was glad it was daytime and there was no need to test it. I am also glad it was a short trip - if you are over about 5'3" you can expect to experience a significant amount of discomfort since 'full' really means full in Ghana. I do begin to wonder however as we speed up and begin to kangaroo along the road, whether the obligatory wedging of knees into the seat in front is actually a strategic way of preventing heads from hitting the ceiling too hard.

The tro tro is taking me to a place called mountain paradise, a fairly basic but clean lodging in the most beautiful location, way up the mountain and surrounded by tropical greenery. I am staying only overnight and have come by myself because there is a shortage of obliging housemates wanting to travel this weekend. Being without company though, I discover, is difficult to achieve - as soon as the 'situation' is noticed, somebody invariably does their best to remedy it. I am unfriendly and unsociable enough to not always be grateful for this.

So the tro tro stopped in Fume, at the bottom of the mountain where the sign post says it is 4km to the top. There is a taxi waiting at the bottom and I am beckoned over by a man who tells me that it is too far to walk and the taxi will cost 10 cedi. I decide it is not too far to walk (even when the price drops to 8 cedi) and set off up the hill, this after all, being what I came here to do.

There are no sign posts after the first one at the bottom and I hope that there are going to be no decisions to make regarding direction. I walk and walk, with really no idea of distance or time (or unfortunately, when I last put on suncream!) with only my ipod and some noisy frogs for company, and I am slightly taken by surprise when I eventually arrive at my destination. I was enjoying myself and did not regret my decision to walk, particularly at the point that I passed a sorry looking and caved in taxi at the side of the road.

Finding myself with a lot of spare time, I set off for another walk, which is not uneventful.... First I am accosted by the resident dog (looking incredibly healthy compared to the dogs I am used to seeing in Hohoe) who wants to play and bites holes in my t shirt. Then a car stops so that its occupants can debate with me at length why it is that people come to visit Ghana. Despite my best efforts I fail to convince them that their country is beautiful and well worth a visit, and we part amicably, agreeing to differ. I pass through a small village and arrive at a school (an open stone building, partitioned linearly into 3 separate classrooms) where I stop to watch the goats who are performing acrobatics but aren't really sure what to make of me.

I leave as a thunderstorm threatens and make it back shortly before the heavens really let rip. (whatever the weather decides to do, it doesn't ever do it by halves). My plans for spending time with a book, and food, are hampered somewhat by the powercut - the interim kerosene lamps do not really provide much light.

I meet the resident cat (also looking very healthy) which doesn't seem to get on very well with the resident dog and I am entertained as they fight (like cat and dog) all around the dinner table, breaking every now and again to beg shamelessly for food. The light eventually returns and I manage to get dinner. I have the usual ordering difficulties (the lack of food available that is, rather than the decision making) and am requested to hurry up eating because the dishes need to be washed!

As the weather gets wilder I wish for the first time since arriving in Ghana that I had brought a sweater with me and somebody would have provided a sheet to sleep under. I take my chances with a blanket that I pinch from an adjacent room, preferring to not think too hard about whether or not it has been washed recently.

The following day I go for my guided hike before heading down the mountain and flagging down a tro tro back to Hohoe. It is full but they make room for me - there don't seem to be restrictions regarding passenger numbers as there are at home :o)

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