Traffic is Like Jazz

"Traffic in Ghana is kinda like jazz. You're all moving to your own beat, improvising, trying new things. And somehow it works." 

Recently, a colleague said to Mrs. O. This is a fairly mild assessment, but it does work.

In Ghana, driving is not for the faint of heart. Where does one begin?

It gets a little hectic at rush hour. Enjoy the view.

THE ROADS

The road less traveled: 4x4 recommended.

In Accra, all of downtown is paved, but this is the exception. For much of the country, only main roads between towns of significance are paved. So if your town is not on the way to somewhere important, you probably travel by dirt road, which washes out in the rainy season. If you are in a larger town, most of the main roads are paved - and they probably still wash out in the rainy season, leaving deep potholes that lead to a dramatic dance when vehicles try to negotiate. Even in the capital, a vehicle with decent clearance is recommended.

Some roads are just bizarre: a stretch of Independence Avenue between Flagstaff House and 37 Military Station is fully paved, but soft enough that it has developed ruts that are relatively harmless (traffic moves slowly here) but looks rather comical, as the painted lines on the road zigzag in this section.

THE VEHICLES
All vehicles in Ghana are imported (with one exception) and almost all of these are second-hand. And a vehicle will be driven until it is physically unable to to function as a means of conveyance. AND for Ghanaians a vehicle will not be repaired until actually broken down. No tune-ups, no "I hear a weird noise, let's take it to the garage to check." Doing the math, this means there are a lot of old rickety and beat-up vehicles out there and a statistically significant number of deathtraps. These take a variety of forms:

A handyman's dream.

-Private vehicles are fairly common, but again, depend greatly on the status of the owner. Accra has plenty of twenty-year old Corollas poking by, but also a few Porches and Bugattis. Sport Utility Vehicles are quite common, both for the safety of a larger vehicle and the ability to negotiate all sorts of terrain (thus having more "utility" than in the North American suburbs). There are a lot of cars on the road - and with a growing population and economy, more people are deciding that they'll look better sitting in their own vehicle than like some shmuck riding transit.

-Taxis are omnipresent and comprise all sorts of cars, with the distinctive yellow shoulders. One will often find them driving slowly and impeding traffic, as they are hunting for a potential fare. Or one will find them driving slowly as they are filled with a family of five on their way to church and also bringing a shipment of yams in the trunk. 90% of taxi drivers show little regard for the rules of the road and their own mortality.

That's probably up to code.

-Tro tros are ubiquitous in Ghana. These privately-owned transport vehicles ply a myriad of routes around and between towns, with their driver swerving in and out of lanes while their mates man the sliding side door and yell out their destination ("Madina, Madina!" "Labadi, Labadi!"), packing in people by the dozen as they go. Where a public transport system should be, tro tros have filled the void (as they have elsewhere, known as dala dalas, danfos, matataus, maxi-taxis).

-Transport trucks are quite common and by the looks of them, are best avoided. They always seem to be filled to the brim with whatever they are carrying and as if an important part is going to fall off at any moment. Due to their poor condition and heavy loads, they are often poking along at unbelievably low speeds, if not pulled over for repairs.

-Motorcycles (or motos) obey no laws but those of physics, weaving in and out of lanes, hopping on sidewalks and driving between vehicles all the way through traffic jams. In Accra, they also are the common mode of transport for machete-wielding thieves looking to steal a purse or phone and make a quick getaway. In the poorer North, they are the main way to get around and entire families might be riding on one. Three-wheeled Chinese "Moto Kings" are becoming increasingly popular as well.

THE DRIVERS

Sound advice.

From timid young learners to reckless daredevils, there is a wide spectrum of drivers on Ghanaian roads. Many will bribe to get their license (for those who have one), which adds up to a lot of people on the road in whose abilities one should have no faith in whatsoever. Consequently, the driver fatality rate is very high.

Coming from the highly-regulated driving environment of the developed world, it takes some time to adjust to local driving conditions. However, Mr. O has been noted (by Mrs. O) to have grown fairly aggressive as a driver. While practicing defensive driving for the safety of his family,  he also practices offensive driving to avoid being stuck in traffic for hours on end, using his vehicle's size when needed. This means elbows up in the traffic circle, abruptly changing lanes to avoid poorly-parked tro tros and impromptu off-roading to cut around ridiculous traffic jams in general. When returning home, Mr. O will find his ability to talk himself our of a traffic ticket will be severely tested. ("Oh chale, was that an illegal turn on to a one-way street? Sorry-o! Next time!")

THE (LACK OF) TRAFFIC ENFORCEMENT
All of this is very loosely enforced. As Jack Sparrow would say, the traffic laws are more "guidelines". The lights are obeyed, although in the case of a malfunction, instead of blinking yellow they simply shut down, leading to a Darwinian push of traffic in multiple directions.

The road signs are also mostly suggestions, except for ones warning of speed bumps, which are often jarring for even the smoothest ride. A friend has designed a helpful list of traffic signs to help navigate Ghana's roads.

This seems excessive for a traffic stop.

The largest hazard by far is the police. In the city, they are positioned at key roundabouts and intersections, ostensibly to keep traffic flowing at peak periods, but it is difficult to see how an entire truck of them parked on a corner listening to the radio achieves this goal. The police are often noted for their ubiquitous blue camouflage barreling down the road with sirens blaring for an imaginary emergency, but occasionally one is in the intersection in a shiny white coat, with matching gloves and pith helmet. (Colonial? Yes. Snappy? You bet.)

When the police do see something amiss, they will wave you to the roadside and inform you that you have committed an infraction (real or imagined - Mr. O has committed both). The law stipulates that the officer write the offender a notice, with a fine to be paid later. But who has such fancy things as ticket books? Not the burly guy who pulled you over. He would much prefer that you unlock your door (don't), let him in the vehicle (really, don't) and drive him to the police station to sort things out (seriously, bad idea). Or a little dash/coffee money/pre-Christmas bonus could let him know that you respect the law and have learned your lesson. There are a thousand combinations to this routine.

All the fun of this cat-and-mouse game is lost when traveling between towns. Anyone driving on a major road will have to slow down every 20km or so for a police barrier checkpoint. What are they checking? Who knows. But God forbid your vehicle look a little unsteady, have expired stickers or your driver look impressionable, because there is often an informal toll or penalty to be paid for the price of law and order.

All of this makes for an intimidating experience. But it all needs to be put into perspective: this is how an entire country (and much of the world) works. One of Mr. O's colleagues recently remarked, "Yeah, it's not great, but way better than Mumbai."