Trotro (public transportation) patronage is a relief for those who are not driving their own car (for whatever reason). Sitting in a comfortable trotro is fun as I get to meet interesting people and listen to konkonsa from other troskians. Last Monday was my worse trotro experience by far.
So that fine morning, I hopped into a Lapas-bound car from the main station in Tema Community one and headed straight for to the second seat. I didn’t want to inconvenience any passenger when alighting. The mini-bus got full and the car finally hit the road. Once I finished paying my fare, I inserted my earpiece into my ears to listen to Citi Breakfast Show (CBS).
Engulfed as I was in the CBS conversation, I could still hear a voice shouting from the front row. Oya, I unplugged one earpiece to hear what he was saying. Saana, the man seated in front of me had been speaking on the gospel of Christ. The man was virtually screaming the message of Christ to us as though we were deaf. From the little I heard and saw of him, I only prayed his shouting wouldn’t endanger my eardrum. I was guarding against his saliva discharge finding its way into my face. What a morning!
In the course of the journey, I saw my mum’s incoming call. There was no way I was going to pick and subject my already overburdened ear to a straining session. Her calls kept coming and I felt guilty I couldn’t pick up to know why the old girl was calling. The next call that came was not from my mum but my boss. Bosses generally don’t take kindly to subordinates not answering calls or returning missed calls. Immediately, I knew I was in the deepest of troubles that morning.
But who am I to tell this preacher of a man that he needed to shut up for me to pick my boss’ call? It seemed I was the only person inconvenienced by the activity in the vehicle. I realised freedom of speech and other freedoms are a big joke in this country. Before I could finish thinking of how to get the preacher to tone it down, I saw my boss’ call again. Herh! That sparked a wave of nervousness in my being.
I called out to the prophet, “Papa Osofo, can you kindly….”
Ghanaian Trotro Stories
End of Part one….
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