Beyond the polished glass: everyday scenes at Accra mall trotro station – Part 1

 Just  outside the polished glass doors of Accra Mall, a differ­ent reality unfolds. Amid the traffic, street vendors, commuters and child beggars, the city’s energy flows in sharp contrast to the calm and luxury within.

It is 4pm on a humid Wednesday afternoon outside Accra Mall. In the traffic surrounding the mall, Toyota Corollas, Nissan Navara’s, Kia Morn­ing, Trotros, Mercedes-Benz cars crawl bumper to bumper. They inch their way around the roundabout connecting Spintex Road to the Tema Motorway. Drivers tap their horns repeatedly as the wait grows longer. Passersby slip between the vehicles, weaving their way to the trotro station, roadside stalls or side streets leading to their desti­nations.

Just beyond the traffic and noise, Accra Mall rises at the heart of the city, bright and busy with shops, eateries and cinemas gathered under one roof. Inside, the contrast is immediate. The air-conditioning hums steadily, keeping the space crisp and cool while shoppers move between stores with bags in hand containing new clothes, gadgets, perfumes and other small luxuries paid for in clean cedis. At the food court, children giggle over ice cream while friends lean over pizza boxes. The smell of fresh popcorn hangs in the air near the cinema entrance.

Since opening in 2008, Accra Mall has stood as one of the city’s most visited commercial hubs. But the calm inside ends at the door. The atmosphere shifts from cool air and clean cedis to constant movement, long waits, and daily survival. Just beyond the mall, the air is thick with heat, blaring horns, and ex­haust fumes. It carries the struggle of people whose day does not end with a shopping receipt.

According to MIT’s Atlas of Pop­ular Transport, Trotros carry over 3.5 million passenger trips each weekday and remain the dominant form of public transport, serving more than 70 per cent of Greater Accra’s commuters. Even without precise daily figures, their presence is unmistakable in the routines of Accra’s residents navigating work, school, and trade across the capi­tal.

This scene plays out daily along the busy stretch near Accra Mall, where traffic slows to a crawl and “trotro” queues stretch along the roadside. At the roundabout, be­neath a weathered police canopy, a plus-size policewoman in a bright green traffic vest has surrendered to sleep. She lies stretched on a long bench, mouth wide open, chin tilted skyward, as if the whine of horns and coughing engines were lullabies. A few steps away, a male officer in a matching vest, tasked with directing the traffic, stands by the roadside with his hands buried in his pockets, eyes fixed on the parade of cars inching forward and honking in frustration.

Across the street, Accra Mall’s Street commerce bursts into ac­tivity. Makeshift stalls are lined up tightly along the roadside. Racks of ready-made African clothing sway in the dusty breeze. Sandals are arranged neatly on plastic sheets. Beaded necklaces in red, blue and gold catch both sunlight and the attention of people passing by.