I wake up early, take my bath, brush my teeth to get ready at 6:40 am. The weather is cool; my hair slightly rises to goosebumps. I think of packing a sweater, but lose the thought as Emeka calls me to get going; Ebuka, his brother, left already. With quick movements, Emeka dusts off the seats. I open the gate, let Emeka pass, and close it behind us. First, we’ll pick up his school children.
Emeka is driving back and forth all morning. Once the school children are at school, it’s their parents who need a ride to work.
At one point, Ebuka overtakes us on the slope to Fuo. In passing by, both exchange a few words and a laugh. My tummy is begging for some attention - there hasn’t been any time for breakfast yet.
“Wednesdays are quiet days”, he says. Not much business. He decides to stop by a friend’s workplace, someone he hasn’t visited in a long time.
Another memory comes up about me coming back to Tamale last year. It was 5 am when Emeka picked me from the bus station. I sat quietly in his back. He looked at me through his mirror and said, “You are observing.” Sometimes we talk; other times we just sit in silence with both our thoughts wandering.
At the airport gate, Emeka hands five cedis to the security man, who waves us through. The road in front is smooth, unlike the bumpy main road back into town. We drop the passengers off and rush back.
There are so many stories, too many to write down. But some are told when you ride with Emeka yourself.
We hop on a bus, an Uber, a taxi, a tuk-tuk, a tro tro, or a Yellow-Yellow… Every country and city has its own name for these rides, its own preferred ways of getting from place to place. But behind the wheel is always one person, taking us to where we need to go.
Sometimes, we barely exchange a word with them. Other times, we find ourselves opening up - sharing worries, bits of our day, or stories about our lives. Some drivers we’ll never see again. Others, over time, quietly become part of our lives.
How much do we really know about the people driving us? Tamale, in northern Ghana, is the country’s third-largest city. Here, the most common mode of transport is the Yellow-Yellow: a three-wheeled motor tricycle that, despite its name, comes in a range of colors. Lately, you’ll even spot a few electric ones zipping around town, reminding me with their subtle sound of airport shuttles.
A Yellow-Yellow carries up to five adults: two in front, three in the back, with space for bags either behind the seats or strapped to the roof. Each tricycle is distinct, its owner personalizing it inside and out - from the color of the seat cushions to stickers on the rear window, and charms dangling at the dashboard, swaying in the rhythm of the road. The outside decorated with reflective tape or painted with bold, individual designs, making each one recognizable to passengers and fellow drivers alike. It’s common to see drivers exchanging honks, waves, or quick greetings as they pass one another.
Some are funny, some are sad, and others are so absurd that it’s hard to believe they are true. One day, I asked if I could join him for a day on the road.
Glossary
Yellow-Yellow
Small commercial tricycles are commonly used for public transport in Tamale.
Bofrot
A round, deep-fried pastry, typically without any filling; popular as a street snack.
Fulani
An ethnic group found across West Africa, including northern Ghana.
Fuo
A neighborhood in Tamale, located in northern Ghana.