The Taxi Chronicles: Episode 1

GHANA - It hit me the other day that some of the most hilarious, death defying and ridiculous moments on my trip have occurred while I was in a taxi. While discussing this with some fellow EAP students, one suggested that I blog about some of my more epic taxi experiences.

Without further ado, so begins my Ghana trip’s first “Taxi Chronicle.”

(Warning to any family members or loved ones who may read this post: Do not panic. Remember, I am in one piece. I have learned my lesson from the following events.)

As I mentioned in a previous post, I spent my birthday in a lovely resort in Busua. I planned the trip with a group of friends the night before we were set to travel with our EAP group to Kakum National Park and the Elmina Slave Castle. We suspected that the group activities would end in the early or mid-afternoon, which would be perfect timing to set out on an hour long journey from the Cape Coast area to Busua.

Unfortunately, things turned out a tad differently than expected.

Our tour of Elmina went late into the afternoon. When we tried to take taxis right after the tour was over, our student guides insisted that they take us to a more well-known area for taxi pickups…aka a gas station that was located 20 minutes further away from Busua with a bunch of skeezy drivers hanging around.

None of us felt entirely comfortable, but we figured that a group of 12 students could handle themselves in the situation. We ended up trying to haggle with a group of 3 drivers who were being exceptionally rude. None of them gave me great vibes but, again, we had no choice. Our EAP bus had essentially abandoned us at this remote gas station and we needed to get to Busua. The 3 drivers were the only ones who would agree with our set price.

Before getting in the taxi, we checked the license plate and texted friends to let them know where we were going. However, when I repeatedly asked to see the driver’s license, he ignore me until I threatened to get out of the cab. He also didn’t give a clear response when we asked if he definitely had enough gas to get to Busua. Finally, we pulled out of the gas station and began one of the craziest rides of our lives.

One of the reasons why Busua is so beautiful is because it’s remote. Extremely remote. In fact, we grossly miscalculated the distance from Cape Coast to Busua. Instead of the easy hour drive we anticipated, it turns out that the drive is an excruciating 3 hours. By the time we set off, it was already getting dark…

The 3 taxis followed each other down the main road. Although drivers in Ghana are generally quite aggressive, these drivers were ridiculous. They went far faster than the speed limit and darted around cars in their path. When we tried to make conversation with our driver, he merely grunted and stepped on the gas. Clearly, he was not enthralled by our company.

We had been on the main road for about an hour and a half when the sun completely set. The main road turned into medium-sized villages. All of a sudden, the car in front of us pulled over and the other taxis followed suit. We became aware, much to our dismay, that the taxi drivers did not know where they were going. Furthermore, we had all been taught never to let taxi drivers stop. Especially not at night. It’s often a ploy to rob the tourists who are in their car.

We asked the driver if he could keep driving but he, once again, grunted and pointed at the car in front of us. The first driver asked for directions and then we were on our way once again.

This is when the ride turned wild. We soon came onto a dirt road. We drove through villages that didn’t appear to have any true roadway at alarming speeds. Our drivers kept stopping to ask people directions. More than once, some people of a less-than-desirable nature tried to approach the car just as we were about to leave. We chased a goat that ran in front of the car, nearly mowing the poor creature down.

I think the worst part was when we passed a taxi that had been in an accident. It sat on the side of the road, completely smashed and charred. Those of us in the car had been silent in fear for a while, but exchanged looks at the sight of the demolished taxi.

Soon, we started driving on a completely deserted road. There was nothing but dirt in front of us and plants from the road surrounding us…and there was no cell phone reception. The driver mumbled something that I couldn’t quite hear.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

“Your money is too small,” he responses.

“Our money is too small?!” I responded.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s too small.”

“It’s the price you agreed on,” one of the other girls noted.

He didn’t say a word about it again until, all of a sudden, all of the taxis stopped on the road. Our driver got out of the car. We had no idea what he was doing. All of the drivers gathered together and then, for some reason, approached our car.

“Your money is too small,” they repeated and then started yelling that we weren’t paying them enough for the drive.

Oh dear God, I thought to myself, This is just fantastic. Now we’re going to be possibly robbed and then abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Happy (almost) Birthday to me.

“We’re very sorry,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. “We know that you had no idea quite how far we were going. We didn’t know either. How about you get us to where we need to be and then we can figure out how much more it would be fair to pay you. Neither party knows how much further we’ll need to drive, so we can’t figure out a fair price until we arrive.”

Apparently satisfied with my response, one of the drivers simply said, “Ok.” The drivers got in the car and we continued on our way.

It took us a bit longer, but we finally got to the resort. Of course, we had to endure more reckless speeding (“Can you please slow down,” I said at one point only to receive a death glare in response), our drivers going in the wrong direction (despite there being a clear street sign that directed us towards Busua and despite us screaming, “You’re going the wrong way! Turn around! Turn around!”), and a few more times of stopping to ask for directions in sketchy areas.

Moral of the story: Traveling at night is not the hottest idea. Neither is getting in a car with anyone you don’t trust. Furthermore, safety in numbers doesn’t necessarily apply when your life depends on the stranger who controls the vehicle you’re in.

Luckily, the resort made up for the hellacious ride. The place looked like Hawaii and, upon arriving, we received the most accommodating service I’ve experienced in Ghana.

“This is just like a scary movie,” one of my friends commented. “We have this crazy ride though the middle of nowhere and then we arrive at a place that seems like paradise…but is it really?” He raised his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

“That’s not funny,” I said as I punched him in the arm. “Now that I’ve spent my last night as a teenager recklessly, I just want to live to see 20.”