Transportation Frustrations

August 16, 2010

Today, I experienced drunk driving. I guess I’ll just describe the schedule of the day because it all added up to the end result in the taxi. (sorry, I’ve already ruined it… now you know that I survived the drunk driving.)

8:00 – morning meeting

9:00 – called the various doctors that I have left on my list, sent some emails, worked on med school apps, etc.

1:15 – headed back to the medical students’ hostel for lunch

2:00 – tried to catch a taxi to Tema, which proved harder than expected. Tema is only 40 km away from Accra, and should only take about 30 minutes to get there. However, with the Accra traffic, it usually takes about an hour and a half, and sometimes can take 2.5 hours. Since my interview was at 3:00 (way to plan ahead, Equia), I opted for a taxi instead of a tro-tro. The first guy just laughed and said, “I don’t go to Tema” so I was left to find another taxi. One came soon and we agreed on 18 cedis. (Taking a tro-tro would have been 80 pesewas which is like 55 cents.) It was probably too much, but I couldn’t help thinking of the hurry I was in and the fact that my budget allowed for very luxurious traveling. I quieted my conscience by telling myself that I would attempt to take a tro-tro on my way back.

2:35 – we had only moved like 10 km. The driver slowed down his car and pulled over to the side of the road and then stopped the car. His English was really shaky and all I understood was, “broken.” I’m still not sure if he had a flat tire or if he saw smoke coming out of the hood or something, but we stood at the curb and waited for another taxi to come by. Of course, this was the one time there weren’t millions of taxis driving past, and I only had 25 minutes to find this doctor’s private practice in a city that was still 30 km away.

2:45 – found another taxi. Explained to the driver that I didn’t know where I was going, only that it was in Tema and I will call the doctor when we got closer. He suggested like 20 cedis and I got it down to 15. I didn’t have to pay the original taxi driver, which was nice. While I was bargaining, I tried to say, “but we’re already halfway there and I was only going to pay the guy like 15 cedis.” The driver was more amused than offended or bothered and smiled at me, saying, “oh. we are definitely NOT halfway there.”

3:30 – called the doctor who gave the driver directions. We found the hospital/clinic without ANY problem (absolutely incredible) and I was shown into the waiting room.

4:15 – (now can you see how my days just get wasted here?? What have I done all day? Nothing!!) Began the interview. The doctor was very nice. His mother was Swiss and his father (an obstetrician) was Ghanaian and he was working at his father’s practice. The place was a private nongovernmental nonreligious hospital and it was really, really nice. He was really excited about the interview and showed a clear understanding of my research because he asked me a few times, “what are you trying to get out of this answer? Do you want me to talk about what I have done since I came here? Do you want to know the improvements that I’ve made since being here?” I have started to have 2 distinct kinds of “good” interviews: the people who give really good answers for data crunching purposes (i.e. “there was no ultrasound, fetal monitor, laparoscope, or any other technology before I came—I was directly involved in buying them”) There are also good interviews for the verbatim purposes. Some people say exactly what I want to write in the paper, and it’s so great to have those. The last paper had quotes written on the middle of the page, and there were some good ones. I’m glad I’ll have great comments that are, for the most part, representative of the majority of the interviewees. He gave me a pamphlet-book that he had written and then showed me around the facility. It was really great. Last week, I interviewed a doctor who had, with his wife, an absolutely incredible practice in a very beautiful facility. (resolvegh.com) At first, I thought that private practice doctors were selfish because they treat mainly wealthy women, and they receive a much larger salary from their practice than the government workers. After seeing these two clinics, I have decided that they are actually really positive things for Ghana. They prove that quality care is available and possible in Ghana, and I think they hold the other hospitals to a nicer standard. At the clinic last week (the one called Resolve), they even go so far as to say that the birthing process is great and should be as comfortable for the women as possible. I’m pretty sure they don’t have Jacuzzis and birthing balls at Korle-Bu.

5:30 – get in a shared taxi to go to Community One, which is what one of the main Tema tro-tro stations is called. Have a little difficulty trying to find the actual tro-tro station because Community One is, like most stations, a big market also. The people weren’t super excited to help me, but I was persistent enough to ask, and the ones who knew where to find an Accra tro-tro. One guy grabbed my hand and said, “I’ll take you there.” Since the tro-tro was nowhere near full, we stood outside the car and chatted for a while. I gave him my email address and stood my ground in the 5-minute argument about whether I would give him my number. I finally got in the tro-tro and sat for about 5 minutes. The car wasn’t filling up and my friend came in the car and grabbed me and said that he actually is a tro-tro driver and would love for me to come in his car. I had already paid the 1 cedi and knew that he was going to Circle, which isn’t as direct a route for me as the one I was going in. But, it hadn’t filled up and I knew I’d have to take a connecting ride anyway so I decided to go with him. He gave me first priority and I sat in the front of the tro-tro, sharing a seat with the mate. The seat tipped when the mate stood up, and I’m not sure the car had ever had seatbelts. The driver drives silently for about 5 minutes and then picks up his phone and starts dialing a number and talking on the phone. Apparently he is looking out the window because we were picking up speed and the big white construction vehicle in front of us was not moving forward. He noticed it about 2 seconds early enough and swerved the car to the left, slamming on the breaks. This elicited a loud shout from the passengers in the tro-tro and I felt really bad for the driver, even though I was struggling to get back on my seat. A few more close calls, but none as bad as that one. He still did not put his phone down.

6:20 – the car dies. The battery light is flickering and he can’t turn the car on. We are in the middle of the road and it is dark now. Everyone starts shouting and getting upset and the mate steps out of the car. He leaves the door open so I jump down, and the rest of the tro-tro follows me through the front seat door. When they go to reclaim their 1 cedi from the driver, they realize that he is so drunk his eyes can’t focus. He tries to brush it off like it was nothing, but all the passengers yell that they are going to get the police and stuff. I’m stunned that he was that drunk (and that I didn’t notice or think twice about the slight smell of alcohol on his breath when he was talking to me earlier). I’m clutching my purse, knowing that it could never get stolen in such a large group of people (esp. Ghanaians) but realizing that I had already made one stupid mistake in trusting the guy and knowing that I would feel stupid and be in huge trouble if someone stole my purse. I tagged along with a few of the Ghanaians who had gotten their money from the drunk driver and were going to get another tro-tro at a nearby station. We walked along the highway / sewer for a while and found the station. The people that I followed were very nice and made sure the mate of the new tro-tro knew that I was getting off at Accra Mall. They told me 3 times where I was supposed to get off, and when we neared the station, the guy behind me kept poking me in the back and saying, “this is where you are going! do you know to get out here?” So we get out, and Sam, one of the guys I met on the tro-tro helps me cross the two 3-lane highways that separate me and the Accra Mall. I talk to him for a while, give him my email address, and go into the mall.

7:30 – I enter the mall and look for a camera. The cheapest one was 250 cedis and the store only takes debit cards (not credit cards) and I only had 30 cedis in cash on me. This is so frustrating. I really need to remember to ask someone for their camera for a day, although I don’t know who would want to lend a camera to the girl with the broken one. And knowing my luck and skill with electronics in Ghana, I’d break it.

9:15 – I meet up with the rest of the Accra group and we buy tickets and get popcorn and Coke and go to the 8:40 showing of Inception. I thought the movie wasn’t well developed and the dialogue was a little cliché, but it was fine. It would have been nice to see the beginning, but I guess I was able to follow the story okay (i.e. better than mom would, but not as well as Karl would).

11:15 – the movie ends. We walk down (and cross 1 of the 3-lane highways) so we can get a better price for taxis. The taxi drivers know that abrofuo (sp? means white people) will always pay more so they charge 3 or 4 cedis extra to white people, especially near the mall. We find one for 6 cedis and pile in.

11:50 – we get back to Korle-Bu. I had met up with the whole international group and that included a Ghanaian girl who was studying medicine in Germany and was here on exchange. She is staying at the International Students’ Hostel which is a little more than a mile away from our hostel. We drop her off and the driver says, “You need to give me 2 extra cedis because I’m dropping you off at an extra place.” I got into a very heated argument with him. I was NOT about to let that happen on such a bad-luck transportation day. I finally told him that we would get out of the car at the junction leading up to our hostel and then we would pay 6 cedis. He agreed but on the condition that I gave him 7 cedis. It finally became a matter of principle and I told him that I would not pay a price higher than what we agreed on before we got in the car. We ended up walking to our hostel from the junction. He was very, very angry.

Anyway, now it’s 1:20 am (that means in the morning, Dipali) and I’m TIRED. I’m not sure whether I’m going to the morning meeting tomorrow. I really enjoy it but today I was almost dozing off, which is something I don’t usually do. Maybe I have malaria. I did get about 10 mosquito bites last night—I guess the mosquito net and repellent are effective. I think I’ll use them tonight since I can’t handle a replay of last night.

Ghanaian proverb of the day: Fire and gunpowder do not sleep together.