Samuel Danquah

Discuss an accomplishment, event, or sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others. realization that Was I prepared to lose sight of my shoreline and dive deep into this new ocean? Drenched with nerve-wracking clots of adrenaline, this was my first time boarding the local trotro - the transportation of the people by the people. There was no bus ticket, no queues, no schedules with the only order being chaos. I waited at the side of the road with a crowd of impatient shuffling feet waiting to throng any trotro (minibus taxi) heading our diverse destinations. Limited spaces on the trotro created an ambiance where only the fittest survived. I could not compete with my natural reticent trait. Even worse was often deciphering the cryptic sign language highlighting the destination of an approaching trotro, a precursor to the scramble for the limited trotro seating spaces by the roadside. As a novice, it was baptism by fire. The sporadic blustering destination calls from an oncoming trotro conductor (mate) hanging from the side of the trotro eased my initiation to the rigor. After much hustle and bustle, I finally boarded a trotro that barreled past me, screeching to a complete halt. I made it! But this trotro was a fast-moving rust bucket on wheels like the majority that traveled the streets. On one spectrum, it posed safety threats with outdated roadworthiness while alluding to its value proposition as the cheapest transportation mode for the masses on the other. The atmosphere of the bus was anything but quiet: "a child mimicking the calls made by his guardian; passenger bargaining with hawkers through the bus' windows; passengers making boisterous phone calls with no regard for the public peace." Alone, each noise was unbearable, but now they were superimposed, which was almost deafening. It was one struggle getting on board, but even harder was sitting quietly with all the springing drama. I tried to remain composed, but I guess my facial expression betrayed me. At this juncture, the popularity of the trotro baffled me beyond reason. A young man, who sat beside me, noticed my discomfort and inquired about my distress. After bearing my soul to him, he let out a burst of stomach-emanating laughter. He said, "that is what makes a trotro, the bus is nothing but a husk; the catcalls, the openly voiced opinions, the complete disregard for personal space and so much more, that's the trotro; the key was to keep an open mind." Contemplating on his words, an epiphany struck my pondering mind and instantly grounded my thoughts. Maybe the reason I dreaded the trotro was due to my predetermined mindset based on what I heard, not what I had experienced. My stranger friend had exposed my mind's eye to a whole new perspective. Now, I clearly understood why both the old and young alike patronize the trotro - I can catch up with current affairs. They range from matters of national importance to seemingly trivial ones. The trotro experience is a reality TV, devoid of the pretension to show reality. As I listened on, I resonated deeply with the heartbreaking story of a nearby orphanage that had collapsed. I didn't notice the teardrops that fled my eyes. I was distraught. I wanted to do something to aid the orphans, no matter how little. We got to a traffic light where a well-dressed man with a box was soliciting for funds for an orphanage. I quickly gave my widow's mite, as did the other passengers. The echoing voice of the trotro's mate as he shouted, "Legon! Legon!" dragged me out of my thinking faculty as I listened to the delightful discussions. Legon was my destination, but I did not want to get off the trotro yet. I was 33000 feet deep into this trotro ocean. It was time to get back to the shoreline, and I had to alight at the stop. " GE- GH", the trotro that brought me home forever changed my world.