Mass Chaos on the Metro Mass

I had – hands down – the best week of my placement so far this past week. Monday and Tuesday were spent preparing for and facilitating a workshop with the project team at my partner organization. In an 8-hour marathon session, we covered the fundamentals of market facilitation including the role of the intervening organization (and its field staff), and talked about the importance of learning from failure (see photo to the right of the workshop in progress!). It was motivating and inspiring to hear those same concepts echoed by the team again on Wednesday and Thursday, as we interviewed candidates for an open Project Manager position and had a critical meeting with another project’s implementation partners.

To make the week even more exciting, I was also looking forward to my very first village stay — an experience EWB  volunteers are encouraged to have in order to better understand the realities of the rural farmers we’re working for. My friend and colleague, Mina, had arranged for us to travel to Chereponi (a District Capital about 5-7 hours away by terrible roads) to meet a friend of his named Ernest who created and now coordinates a Women’s’ Soybean Farming Collective in the region. We were planning to meet with him on Saturday to talk about his relationship with the aggregating station in the district and to investigate other potential buying/selling relationships with him. Mina had arranged for me to part ways with himself and Ernest on Saturday evening, to go and stay for 3 nights with the Chairwoman of the soybean collective in a nearby village. I would spend the weekend and early part of next week living with her and her family, experiencing the farm and truly “rural living” for the first time in my life.

Needless to say, I’m NOT writing this post from Chereponi. As the title of this blog post suggests, some serious chaos got in the way of our plans. We’ve taken to calling yesterday’s events the “METRO MASSacre” — and here’s why:

Participating in Corruption

Ghana has two forms of state transport. STC is the nicer of the two options and is what I took from Accra to Tamale when I first arrived in Ghana. STC buses only run to regional capitals (Tamale, Kumasi, Accra…), and tickets are substantially more expensive (approximately 35 GHC from Tamale to Accra). MetroMass is the second of the two options, which services some (but not all) regional capitals at a far lower cost (5 GHC from Tamale to Chereponi). Tickets cannot be purchased in advance, so you need to either a) arrive ridiculously early or b) work the system if you plan to travel on any given day.

Mina and I chose option b. Through the connections of another EWB colleague, we were able to get the name and phone number of the bus driver who would be behind the wheel for yesterday’s service. The driver agreed to save us two tickets, and our colleague told us that we’d be able to arrive at the station around 1pm, pick up the tickets and wait for the bus to arrive. Perfect arrangement, right? Wrong.

When we got to the MetroMass station shortly after 1, we went to the ticket sales booth to pick up the tickets that had apparently been set aside for us. The woman behind the counter (who, sidebar, had the CRAZIEST drawn-on eyebrows I’ve seen in my entire life) told us there were no tickets left. Mina explained the arrangement with the driver, and suggested that she call him to confirm. Somehow, that wasn’t necessary. Instead, she said “give me your money, I will give you tickets.” Magically, the sold-out bus had two available seats. Corruption prevailed and we made our way out into the ridiculously hot bus yard (see photo to the left).

Waiting. Melting.

I honestly think yesterday was the hottest day I’ve experienced in Ghana. It was certainly the longest I’ve spent outside in the sun (there’s no shade whatsoever in the MetroMass yard) or without air conditioning since I arrived. Mina and I found a spot in the back of the yard on some old plastic chairs, made ourselves comfortable, and spent the next 2.5 hours sweating from every pore. It was ridiculously, outrageously, unbelievably hot.

Over those 2.5 hours, we drank about 3 liters of water, devoured a fair bit of street food and FanIce, and fended off a few too many perfume/cologne salesmen. We also watched a crew of Ghanaian construction workers go to work on a storm sewer being built at the back of the yard. 

Loading and Overloading

 It was almost 4pm when the bus finally arrived. After a few celebratory fist pumps, Mina and I gathered our things and moved towards the big, orange, rickety bus. The passengers loitered around the bus as MetroMass staff and others loaded the bus full of completely random cargo. Boxes of pesticide and herbicide, 100kg sacks of imported rice, giant bags of Okra, satellite dishes, and cases of drink were packed under the seats and in the aisles. By the time we actually boarded the bus, the boxes were stacked 2 feet high in the aisles and we had to camber over all kinds of goodies to get to our seats.

As luck would have it, the skies opened up and rain poured down in torrents just as the last passengers were trying to board. People pushed and shoved and crammed themselves into the front of the bus, drenched and panicked. It was at this point that Mina and I realized that the bus had been over-sold and/or there were 20-odd people trying to hitch a ride without a legally-procured ticket. The height of my own discomfort came when I had been forced up against the window — seriously invading Mina’s personal space — because a Ghanaian woman had decided to make herself comfortable by sitting ON my back. Less than ideal. “Madam. Do you have a seat?” I asked, several times. She categorically ignored me.

The Quadfecta of Danger

It quickly became clear that this bus ride had the potential for disaster. Passengers with a seat were frustrated by the over-crowding caused by those who didn’t, and those who didn’t were making no attempt whatsoever for find a safer seat. With 1) at least 20 more passengers than there were available seats, 2) flammable chemicals packed into every free space down the aisle, 3) the sun setting rapidly, and the rain not seeming to lighten up, 4) Mina and I decided that it was a perfect quadfecta of danger. We had to get off.

“We’d like to get off. This bus is TOO dangerous,” Mina said. No one moved. “This is unsafe! Look at this! This is how people die. Look at the goods in the aisles. There are too many people on this bus. Please. Let us off.” A few people shouted in agreement, but still, no one moved. I pulled out my camera and Mina took a few shots of the overcrowding, much to the dismay of one man who absolutely did not want his photo taken. “Don’t delete it! Send it to Accra!” a few people shouted from a few seats behind us. We’d talked earlier that day about how Ghanaians LOVE a good argument, and will always have something to add to one that’s in progress, even if they have no idea what’s being discussed. Case and point. Others looked at us incredulously — why on earth would two salimingas WITH seats want to get off the bus?

Mina Gets SERIOUS-Oh

We finally squeezed our way off the bus, and had the woman who had previously gotten comfy on my back pass us our bags and moto helmets through the open window. As I celebrated my first few breaths of fresh air, Mina went on a mission to find the bus’s conductor (the guy who takes the tickets/handles the money, but not the guy who physically drives the bus). “We’re getting our money back,” he said. I’d never seen Mina so riled up. The conductor and Mina met in front of the bus, and the argument continued. I stood beside Mina, impressed by his conviction and somehow also worried about how the conductor would react.

“Who runs this bus?” Mina demanded. “The Government of Ghana runs this bus. This is terrible!! MetroMass should be setting an example. The Government of Ghana sets the road laws, but then doesn’t even follow it itself. What is that? This is how people die.” The conductor shouted back, “This is how it is in Ghana. This isn’t Europe.” Yikes… “The problem is that the road is a one-way road and we only have one bus.”

“Yes, and that’s why it breaks down all the time. You should add more buses if the route is popular. How can you possibly think you’re providing good customer service when people are packed into there like animals?”

“The people like it!” (yes, that’s a verbatim quote from the Conductor). “Your idea of adding more buses is a good one, but it is not possible.”

“This is impossible. We want our money back. We are going home. We’ll take a Benz Bus tomorrow instead – they’re better than MetroMass at following the Government’s rules. Please. Give us our 10 GHCs.” Mina said, frustrated.

The conductor gave us a 10 GHC note and we left, feeling somehow vindicated and most definitely ready for a beer. The trip to Chereponi would have to wait for another day.

Some Few Lessons

Over beers later, we tried to come up with a new plan. Do we try for a trotro in the morning? Or try and hitch a ride with the District Chief Executive who we heard was in town from Chereponi for some reason or another… Or, do we postpone the trip all together, perhaps for some time after West Africa Retreat / the AVC Team Meeting, when we’d have been able to put more thought into and hopefully find more clarity around the hypotheses we’d be testing in the field whenever we did end up going.

We also talked about the lessons that we’d be taking away from this MetroMassacre. Should we suggest that travel on MetroMass be off limits to EWB volunteers, based on the safety issues that we’d just experienced? Mina reflected on what situations like this one mean for international development —- how transportation challenges like this are significant barriers to investors who might otherwise come to Northern Ghana and do business in the area. I reflected on the importance of trusting your instincts when you’re in a new culture, particularly when your personal safety is involved. It didn’t feel okay in my gut to be on that bus, so getting off of it in the end was actually a feeling of liberation, not frustration.

Being safe and sound (and blogging) in Tamale today is a good feeling. Looking forward to a big week ahead, even if it’s not exactly what I’d had in mind. Here’s to going with the flow!