Congestion At The Pedu Junction Poem by Don Clerico

Horns honk as the traffic officer
directs dozens of tro tros, taxis, buses and trucks
through the busy Pedu intersection.
We enter the junction and instantly
what were two lanes of movement
become three, four and even five.

Horns beep as everyone inches forward.
Drivers holler to friends in other vehicles
only inches away in the crowded junction.
Motorcycles maneuver among cars, trucks, buses
while bicycles hug the edge of the road
trying not to fall into the concrete drainage ditches lining the street.

Above it all we hear the sound of the Tro Tro lot,
the loudspeaker announcing to passengers
all the cities and towns they can travel to:
Where you going? Where you going?
Kumasi! Kumasi! Kumasi!
Takoradi! Radi! Radi!
Accra! Accra! Cra! Cra! Cra!

Like morning rush hour anywhere,
Cape Coast traffic is congested and noisy.
Unlike rush hour in western cities
in Cape Coast drivers honk to
let others know they can go ahead of them,
as well as to warn, “I am coming.”

No one gets angry, no one shows annoyance;
and it seems as if no one ever
comes to a complete stop.
Traffic flows,
slowly at times,
like lightning whenever possible.

Of course, not all exchanges are pleasant,
but these are the exceptions.
Words quick, facial expressions momentarily dark.
Then, a shake of the head,
a tsch of the teeth,
a shrug of the shoulders,
and everything returns to normal.

A left arm extends from a driver’s window
palm up, fingers flexed
“May I cross in front of you? ”
Headlights flash “Yes. You are welcome.”
Traffic continues.
Horns maintain their beeping.
Life goes on.

After all, this is Ghana