Friday, May 21, 2010

Tro Tro Tales

I am, really I am, am tired of the shaking, the spitting, the kooko scents, the sweat, the insults in fact am tired of the trotro.

I remember how I used to go to S.U in Jhs just to avoid the driver from picking me up,so I can join my classmates to pick trotro.

We would try to buy plantain chips just as the car was about to move and pretend that we left the coins on the floor. (eh! I no sey I am a bad girl) you would see me grinning from ear to ear like I just won a Grammy, man! Those were some times!

I grew up picking trotro and this has caused my disinterest in learning to drive and now that am fully grown up with curly pubic hair, am forcing to.

Ok so this is my reason for writing this: I cannot afford a newspaper, radio or TV advert to advertise my plea “HELP, I NEED A CAR”

Awurade trotro is killing me! Gone are the days when I was in my konkonte uniform willing to board trotro, now that am a full grown curvaceous woman I feel the trotro harassment ,free me oh tom!

You should see the unorganized queue at the lorry station; we rushed on any incoming trotro like some ants found sugar. I get pushed and shoved and if not lucky I would probably lose a valuable. Most of the times, the guys do the pushing, (they are not gentlemen) do they really care? Look trotro taking takes your gentility out of you. One time I asked a guy who pushed me, “Aden?”, he looked at me and said, “Aden sen?se ye fa trotro, madam yei paa” and walked off. I stood there for a minute looking at myself and said “ Na me kraa aden”?

Oh I hate the spit!, the driver spits, the mates spits, the passenger spits, everybody spits. They spit so bad it reminds me of when I went to korle Bu and sat in the wrong queue of newly pregnant women. Often I get unlucky and sit behind the trotro drivers who mostly have their morning brushes whilst they drive. They brush their teeth with “adua” the local toothbrush and spits continuously as he listens to sports on peace fm.

All kinds of food, once i stared at a woman so hard am sure God added it to my sins for that day. She sat beside me and ate kenkey, fish and pepper. How? ei how? After that she bought sachet water and washed her hand through the window. Trotro offers you a buffet……kooko and koose, rice, fried yam, plantain chips ……. ( let the troski takers union members continue)

The stench, the mates are the worst offenders, even Giorgio Armani deodorants won’t help. They don’t seem to care as they are always in sleeveless t-shirts lifting their hands over your head and rubbing their armpits in your face ( you would always notice a bush of prickly hair)

Trotro is like the salon, konkonsa be wat! People gossip, get angry, laugh and even get their future wives in there.
I remember a lady who was alighting and showed us a sneak peak of what her husband enjoys (stretch marks on bleached skin with a fine buttocks line to go with it) man was she mouth whipped, the women called her ashawo and the men blamed her as one of the reasons why men raped women (idiots I thought).

Passengers would just make sure you get a taste of their morning blast as they wipe they buttocks on your face as they alight.

Oh! God I need a car, listen I aint charity all I need is a rich man with a pot belly to buy me a car as we talk about payment terms later or a skinny boy who earns a monthly pay to take a loan and buy me a car, and I would give him a lift every morning to work.

Just in case you see me in the front seat of a trotro “twaing” seven, please don’t call me.


Don Setor said...

Enjoy your trotro ride whilst it lasts. You'd soon get an upgrade. I don't know who it would come from, a pot belly man or a skinny boy. Anyway, I wish it comes from your own pockets so you wouldn't owe anyone favours for that with it's associated fringe benefits. Or better still, see me in chambers and lemme 'upgrade you.' lol