Features
On a ‘trotro’ bus
The most interesting place on the planet, in my view, is on a ‘trotro’ bus in Ghana. A cross section of the society can always be found on a trotro, from the office worker in his tie, the market woman, the lady taking her child to the clinic, the last but not the least, the driver’s mate who oozes some new, new, scent which makes you wonder the last time he had a proper bath or washed his clothes.
Depending on the hour of the day and the luck following you that day, you can find yourself sitting beside someone who apparently had been sweating but had not used a deodorant and the scent from the armpit comes to add to the chaos already on the bus and you can really testify that indeed, God is King ‘Onyame ye odo’ as someone will translate it.
We should not forget the usual drug peddler whose medicine heals almost every ailment and also the occasional preacher who ensures that he motivates you to give an offering to support God’s work, at the end of his preaching.
It is a place where one gets to know which party is going to win the elections and which one is going to lose. In fact, the political parties should not waste money on opinion polls.
All they need to do is get some of their members to get on trotros and just listen to the conversations or initiate conversations about which party is poised to win impending elections and their job will be done.
The reasons why a particular party will be winning the elections will be expertly laid out in such a manner that you will be amazed. Passengers speak their mind freely, not giving a hoot about what other passengers may think about what they say. That is the real opinion polls and not the ones conducted by pollsters most of which never turn out to be true.
I recall a conversation I once overhead on a trotro between the driver and a passenger and was shocked by the details. The conversation started with the behaviour of some women these days regarding infidelity.
The passenger sitting at the front, farthest from the driver, was talking to the driver about a friend of his, who was having an affair with a married woman.
He went on about how the lady in question when she is going to her boyfriend, deceives the husband that she was going to visit her mother and goes to spend time with the boyfriend, leaving her young son with his father, her husband.
The amount of sensitive information that can be gathered on a trotro, will amaze you. That is trotro for you.
On the funny side, story is told of a drug peddler on a trotro who was trying hard to convince passengers to buy his drug. He went on to espouse the efficacy of the drug and then he proclaimed that if your spinal cord is paining you, severely” while pointing to his forehead, “this drug will heal you and stop the pain instantly”.
A teenager on the trotro who was a student, stopped the drug peddler and said, “Uncle, our spinal chord is at our back and not on our forehead”. The peddler shouted at the teen and said “Naughty boy, don’t come and spoil my job”.
A very interesting place to be, I can assure. Another thing I have observed is the narrow spaces between adjacent rows of seats. If you are vey ‘tall’ like a former big man I know, then you do not have an issue.
However, if you are a bit tall, then you are going to be very uncomfortable if you are travelling to a far point and therefore you will spend much time on the bus. How to adjust your knee becomes a big issue. I will end and continue the conversation on trotro, another time.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
Attention-Deficit or Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is often mistaken for laziness or indiscipline. In consulting rooms across Accra and in reports from school teachers, the pattern repeats: children who are bright but forgetful, parents who feel helpless, teachers who see incompleteness.
Research is clear-Barkley (2015) and others describe ADHD as a difference in the brain’s regulation of alertness, impulse and working memory, not a lack of effort.
The family’s role begins with structure. Regular sleep, predictable meal and homework times, and a simple visual list (uniform → books → water → corridor) provide the external scaffolding of these children need. Praise what is completed—“You opened the book and wrote the first sentence”-instead of rebuking what is missing.
Schools can help by seating the child front-row and centre, giving short written plus verbal instructions, allowing brief movement breaks, using quiet nonverbal cues and, where possible, grading effort and method as well as neatness. These adjustments reduce conflict and raise submission rates without lowering standards.
Couples and caregivers should share roles: one grounds, one pivots, and both protect rest. Shame-“bad parenting, bad child”-needs replacing with fact: different wiring, needs scaffolding.
Outcomes improve not by promises of perfection but by daily routines, clear limits and warmed connection. One homework slot kept, one instruction chunked, one calm repair after blurting-these small wins shift the family climate and let the child be seen beyond the label.
Resource
• CPAC (award-winning Mental Health and Counselling Facility): 0559850604 / 0551428486
Source: REV. COUNSELLOR PRINCE OFFEI’s insights on special needs support, relationships, and mental health in Ghana. He is a leading mental health professional, lecturer, ADR Expert/Arbitrator, renowned author, and marriage counsellor at COUNSELLOR PRINCE & ASSOCIATES CONSULT (CPAC COUNSELLOR TRAINING INSTITUTE) – 0551428486 /0559850604.
WEBSITES:
https://princeoffei22.wixsite.com/author
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After two weeks of hectic activity up north, I drove to the Tamale airport, parked the car at the Civil Aviation car park as usual, paid the usual parking fee and boarded the plane for Accra.
Over the last two weeks, I had shuffled between three sites where work was close to completion.
One was a seed warehouse, where farmers would come and pick up good quality maize, sorghum and other planting material.
The other was a health facility for new mothers, where they were given basic training on good nutrition and small scale business.
And the third was a set of big boreholes for three farming communities.
The projects usually ran on schedule, but a good deal of time was spent building rapport with the local people, to ensure that they would be well patronised and maintained.
It was great to be working in a situation where one’s work was well appreciated. But it certainly involved a lot of work, and proactivity. And I made sure that I recorded updates online before going to bed in the evening.
When the plane took off, my mind shifted to issues in Accra, the big city. The young guys at my office had done some good work. They had secured five or six houses on a row in a good part of the city, and were close to securing the last.
When we got this property, unusually, Abena greeted them casually, and appeared to be comfortable in the guy’s company.
I was quite disappointed to hear that, because until the last few weeks, it seemed as if Abena and I were heading in a good direction. Apart from the affection I had for her, I liked her family. I decided to take it easy, and allow things to fall in whatever direction.
Normally I would take a taxi to her house from the airport, and pick her up to my place. This time I went to my sisters’ joint, where they sat by me while I enjoyed a drink and a good meal.
“So Little Brother,” Sister Beesiwa said, “what is it we are hearing about our wife-to-be?”
“When did you conclude that she was your wife-to-be? And what have you heard? I’ve only heard a couple of whispers. Ebo and Nana Kwame called to say that they have seen her in the company of—”
“Well said Little Brother,” Sister Baaba said. “By the way, Nana Kwame called an hour ago to ask if you had arrived because he could not reach you. Someone had told him that Jennifer had boasted to someone that she had connected Abena to a wealthy guy who would take care of her.”
I was beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.
“In that case,” Sister Beesiwa said, “you should be glad that Abena is out of your way. She is easily swayed. Anyone who would make a relationship decision based on a friend’s instigation lacks good sense. I hope the guy is as wealthy as they say?”
“Who gets wealthy running a supermarket chain in Ghana?” Sister Baaba said. “Our supermarkets sell mostly imported products. Look at the foreign exchange rate. And remember that Ghanaians buy second-hand shoes and clothes. Supermarkets are not good business here. Perhaps they are showing off that they are wealthy, but in reality they are not doing so well.”
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.”
She said that David Forson was only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her. And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. We would be able to sell all five houses to one big corporate customer, and we had already spoken to a property dealer who was trying to find a buyer in order to get a good commission.
That was going to be my biggest break. I had asked the boys to look for a large tract of land on the outskirts of the city where we could develop our own set of buildings, blocks of storey houses and upscale apartments. Things were going according to plan, and I was quietly excited. However, things were not going so well regarding my relationship with Abena.
My buddies Ebo and Nana Kwame had called to say that they met Abena and her friend Jennifer enjoying lunch with a guy, and Ebo believed that Jennifer was ‘promoting’ an affair between Jennifer and the guy. They were of the view that the promotion seemed to be going in the guy’s favour, because only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her.
And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“As I’ve already said, I will stop by her place, but I will mind my own business from now. Hey, let’s talk family. How are our parents? And my brothers-in-law? And my nephews and nieces? Why don’t we meet on Sunday? I’m going to drop my bags at my place, and go to see Mama and Dad.”
