Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

Hitchhiking may be a thing of the past in America what with our overwhelming paranoia and strict law against in on nearly all major highwaysl, but here in Ghana it is still a great shoestring method of transport. It is surprising how eager people are to pull over pick up a few Obruni and sometimes even go out of their way to tote them to their destinations. Gotta love that Ghanaian hospitality.

Most of the time the recipe for a free ride goes something like this: with your backpack snuggly at your back--you gotta look like you want it--position your Chacos along the roadside, hold out your left palm and gently tap the back of your right hand with two fingers extended against it. This is the Ghanaian sign for begging (it gets over used in my classroom when I am BEGGING my hundreds of students to be quiet while I try to teach). Within 10 minutes, someone will stop a few seconds down the road- quickly jog to the car, greet the driver and any passengers that may be present (I like to compliment ladies clothing, it gives you something to talk about after you are invited in the car) mention your destination to the driver and see how close he can get you. Generally once the driver stops, he will feel obligated to take you even a small way down the road, the way I see it- the closer the better. Once in the vehicle, make small talk with the driver, he usually has a cousin living in the US or is himself a resident simply on vacation in Ghana, returning to the US any day now. I whip out all the stops and try to use as much Twi/Fante as I know and a good fufu joke always goes a long way. Most of the time the rides are uneventful, maybe some grooving reggae tunes will set the pace or a quick stop to pick someone up or drop someone off will be made. This is most of the time- however occasionally, you get lucky—real lucky.

On my way from Kumasi to Kukurantumi a few other volunteers and I were fortunate enough to bum a ride with two Ghanaian gentlemen in excellent spirits (that may be a pun because I am pretty sure at least one of them was drunk which I am realizing is generally the case when you are with more than one Ghanaian). Sure enough they were cousins and one of them, who lived in the Bronx, was returning to the US any day now. The ride started out in the usual fashion, we pretended to love fufu and groundnut soup and they talked about President Obama. Just as the Bronx resident was confessing his secret love for George W. Bush (I believe his exact words were “He is never afraid of any man”, whatever that means) we see a most hilarious site. Beth, one of my fellow PCVs spots it first- a Rastafarian on a motorcycle with a Baboon clinging to his back. The man is driving on the shoulder because his motorcycle doesn’t have the power to keep up with the big dogs on the Accra-Kumasi highway, so naturally we zip by him. I barely even caught a glimpse. However, Beth convinces the guys to pull over so the motorcyclist can catch up with us and then we can snap some photos. It was truly a ridiculous site. Enjoy!


As if that wasn’t enough laughter for one ride, not more than 40 minutes down the road, the driver sees someone on the side of the road holding up a dead animal. We stop, he buys the animal, more photo ops. I am still not sure what kind of animal it was but man did it really smell up the back seat. Photos wo ha:

Roadside Buffet

Beth and I

After the bush meat was purchased it of course needed to be butchered which was yet another stop on our wild adventure. A few hours later we arrived safely at the Bunso junction. Hopped in a tro and headed for the hubsite. Hitching isn’t always the fastest way to get there but it certainly is the cheapest.