Not many young people especially those who belong to the Generation Z are familiar with the Ghanaianism “jos”. If you happen to use trotro as a means of transportation daily, you may hear this word coming out of the mouth of a mate or a  passenger once in a while. But what does the term mean? To “jos” basically means to “perch” something somewhere uncomfortably.

This morning, as I begin my journey to Madina, I am lucky enough to witness this practice. The trotro is full. The mate’s head is stuck out of the window of the trotro’s door, “Madina!” “Madina!” There is a woman who sits just beside the mate. She has a load on her lap. Her daughter of about 3 years is perched beside her. She looks at the mate with questioning eyes. Her husband sits just beside me on the second row. We both exchange looks. This mate is about to do what trotro mates do best. He is about to “jos” another passenger beside this woman and her daughter while “josing” himself on the same seat he has given to this passenger. That makes 5 people on a seat for three. The problem is, this passenger does not refuse to be a part of this illegality. He encourages it by joining the trotro. Isn’t it normal?

It is normal because we like “josing” things in this country. When I was in primary school, we used to perch on seats or desks that could only accommodate two pupils. The Ministry of Education or the school was supposed to provide seats to ease the stress of academic work for pupils. When a spill over occurred, the headmaster or headmistress had no choice than to allow a pupil to “jos” beside another pupil. I have had to perch on a desk with two other students when I was in primary school. Unfortunately, I did not complain much because it was an opportunity to perch beside a girl I liked. Oh how I wished I could mention her name right now!

In my days as a student at the University of Ghana from 2004 to 2008, there was a popular phenomenon on campus we called “perching”. This was the illegal practice where two students shared a bed in the halls. The rooms in the halls had what we called inner rooms and outer rooms. The inner room had one very small bed for one occupant. The outer room had two bank beds for four students. But by the time the semester took off, the room would accommodate 8 students in the outer room and 2 students in the inner room. The authorities knew this and tried to prevent it because it was not only illegal for a room to accommodate 8 students but it was gravely an offense for a student to sell space on his or her bed to another student. But who says we could be blamed? The university had always admitted more students than the accommodation slots available. I can’t also blame the university - everybody wanted to go to Legon (University of Ghana). Legon was and still is the “ish”.

Fast-forward to 2025 and there is another kind of “josing” that has always existed even though Ghanaian society generally did not endorse it. However, attitudes have changed - we now endorse it by providing justification in the economic and emotional senses. This “josing” is called the sidechic boom. We laugh about it! We discuss it! But we don’t condemn it. Rather, we hail it. To put it bluntly, this sidechic phenomenon can also be termed adultery or cheating. What is glorious about cheating or someone getting hooked up to another person’s husband or boyfriend? Is this something to celebrate? Unfortunately, this practice has become an economic venture for many young women who get hooked up on to wealthy married men. To make matters worse, social media trends hype it. What happened to “do not covet your neighbour’s property?” But well, there are religions in Ghana that endorse the idea of “jossing” wives.

Disclaimer! I am not the one to tell the fetish priest he or she has discoloured teeth!

Now on the matter of not coveting your neighbour’s property. Why do we take monies which do not belong to us in this country? Anytime you sit in trotro or drive through any city or town in this country, just lift up your head and see the number of uncompleted projects that pollinate our towns and cities. What is the genesis of these?

“Jossed” budgets!

Ghana does not have enough money to undertake projects; that’s the claim by our leaders. So we borrow monies from developed countries. The borrowing is enough trouble. But what is worse is when we borrow as a country and use the money for frivolous endeavours. Who in his or her right sense goes to the bank to borrow money just to to spend it on luxuries and frivolities? No one in his or her right sense does that!

But it’s done in Ghana. Our leaders do it just to rip us off. The repercussion of this behaviour is for the country to “jos” the budget. The minister “joses” the budget. The contractor does same. So we begin the projects and never complete them. Even if we do, we end up commissioning “shoddy” works.

As this trotro descends this mountain from Peduase Lodge to Ayi Mensah, I see evidence of this bane. In 2019, the rocks on this mountain started falling off. We were lucky that they did not fall on passing vehicles.

Calamity missed by inches!

That side of the road was blocked for about two weeks. The dual carriage road became a single carriage road. Eventually, the Ministry of Roads and Transport intervened and took the initiative to hold the entire stretch of rocks on the mountain with nets. I have always wondered if these nets are strong enough to hold these rocks. It looked like and still looks like these rocks have just been “jossed”. And just like this passenger who will not complain for being “jossed” in this trotro, we will not complain and ask for maintenance works to be carried out on these nets that hold these rocks till calamity strikes. This is Ghana! We never really complain and demand results; such evidence for our “jossed” independence!

…

It’s 5:20 am. I climb aboard what probably is the last early morning trotro from Aburi to Madina. The trotro has no mate. Probably, the driver has either left his mate at home for the mate to join him later or the driver simply, has been working without a mate recently.

This phenomenon of drivers not employing mates has become quite popular lately on this route. I can think of two reasons: First, like other drivers, the current economic downturn with its accompanying increase in fuel prices has compelled this driver to shelve the idea of employing a mate because he simply cannot pay the mate he employs. The other reason could be the age old problem of greed.

This driver wants it all!

He does not want to share proceeds of the business. Well, everyone has got to make difficult choices in these times just to survive economically. Probably, this driver has made his. Besides, he has to make weekly sales to the owner of the car.

However, it is not this driver’s decision that lingers on my mind. I am encouraged by the presence of seven people in this trotro who have woken up this early just to get to the city to get their daily bread. Mind you, the first “train” of people traveling to Madina already left the Akuapem Ridge between 3am and 4am. Who said Ghanaians are lazy?

I guess you are familiar with the From-Grass-Grace story of many a rich men in this country. You see them appear on TV with all kinds of looks and claims.

There is the corporate and smart look. They dress nicely in three piece suits with classic shoes. Their hands are decorated with Rolex or Taguer watches. Gold chains adorn their necks and strange rings grace their fingers. With their legs crossed, they speak extensively on live television and tell us of all the difficult decisions they took to become successful.

There is also the traditionally looking self-made man. These look a bit composed and calm. They seemingly sound humble speaking in way that attributes their success to God and tell us stories of how they own a chain of businesses here and there. It could be anything.

Then there is the casually looking Rich Hustler. Today it’s Izzyman; tomorrow it’s Chester; the next day it might be Meat 1! These have made their fortunes by selling just anything on the streets to survive - paints, cassettes, bread, fuel, just anything that’s not a scam or laundered!

One thing runs through these self-made stories. They started from nothing and have made it by dint of hard work. That should not really be a problem for us even though some sound very ridiculous from cassette selling to “Obroni W’awu” (Used Clothing) breakthroughs. That’s impressive really.

Like some of these young men jokingly say, “Bossu, please show us the way”. Yes, we really do want to know the way. Who does not want to be rich?

But I have a problem when these self-proclaiming, self made men and women make it look like we are all lazy. For Christ’s sake, this is 5am. Which lazy person wakes up between 3 am and 5 am to go to work? Besides, half of the time, these self-made stories do not add up. From their struggling days to their golden days, there are missing pieces somewhere in the middle of the story. And to think that these achievers think that all of us are bamboozled by their stories is nothing short of unintelligence. We see through the cracks in their stories but we do not begrudge them. The Devil deals.

Why would we begrudge them when some get busted by the Interpol for money laundering crimes that span a period of 10 years? Who would begrudge them when they finally get arrested for stealing monies from their employers especially in these banks? Who will feel pity for them when they finally get exposed for stealing state funds? Why should I get worried when it is all about romance scams aided by “vooju? What is my business in feeling pity for those who are caught when there is a police-busting raid for cocaine? Let me even keep quiet about those who stash millions of dollars and euros under their beds! The cracks finally lead to the collapse of the building when these are exposed.

But for genuine hard working Ghanaians like me, we appreciate our hustle everyday. There is great contentment in knowing that what we earn and spend is genuine. There is also great contentment in living a quiet life and not throwing it in everybody’s face. Quality beads do not make a cacophony of sounds.

So, this is to all the Ghanaians who hustle genuinely, who do not cut corners but work through sweat and blood just to put food on their tables, shelter over their heads and clothes on their bodies.

We are not lazy, neither are we criminals!

*****

The restlessness of the passengers in the Trotro is palpable but it is suddenly interrupted by shouts from every corner of the vehicle. Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! We won’t agree!

You must be wondering what the cause of this sudden uproar is. It is the usual behaviour of Trotro drivers when they realize travelers are in need. The occasion at the moment is the late night struggle for transportation. The desperation to get home is evident. The passengers in this Trotro would have to sleep at the Madina station if this Trotro does not move. Else, we would have to walk to the roadside to try our luck or a few of us, who can squeeze out some extra cash, would have to pick Uber, Yango or Bolt. As the Akan proverb says, “Ɔkwantuni asɛm yɛ yaw” , freely translated as “the plight of the traveler is painful”.

Many a time, this scenario has played out in other forms. When Junior High School students reopen for the term, this station on the fringes of Madina becomes packed with students. As soon as these drivers and station masters realize this situation, they switch it around like shrewd businessmen!

“The fare has changed. You either pay or find another car”, they shout in the direction of passengers.

The problem is this - at this point, every driver who drives a Trotro that will move to the Eastern corridor will sing from the same hymnal sheet.

On other occasions, this situation has been caused by the celebration of the Odwira Festival on the Ridge. The jammed crowds become vulnerable zebras crossing a river full of crocodiles. They become easy pickings for Trotro drivers, their mates and taxi drivers. The ultimatum is theirs. You either pay or get stuck at the station.

Every time I have found myself in this situation, I have asked myself a simple question- where are the systems to check some of these lawless, low-life drivers?

We live in a country that prides itself in being peaceful, hospitable and God fearing. But these three virtues, though partially displayed, veil the indiscipline that has bedeviled this country. What is the Ghana Private Road Transport Union (GPRTU) in consultation with the Ministry of Transport doing to penalize these drivers who take the law into their own hands to inflate fares at will? Is it that the ministry does not know the recklessness of these drivers in many stations across the country? Very sadly, drivers increase fares even before the Ministry of Transport sanctions these new fares when fuel prices go up.

Besides, we are our own enemies in this country. What happened to the mantra “love your neighbour as yourself?” Well, the jungle lifestyle has permeated the soul of the typical Ghanaian - prey or become prey. So, instead of showing empathy for these tired travelers, the drivers rather think of the “insignificant” 1 cedis and 2 cedis they can make on each passenger. Come to think of it, how much is that profit for a Trotro that has 13 passenger seats?

But, before you think I am being too harsh on these tro-tro drivers, let me switch my attention to the insensitivity of our political leaders. A while ago, accounts were made for the Black Stars expenditure for that debacle of a performance in Brazil in 2014. The revelation that Kenkey and fish cost the Ghanaian people 35 dollars per plate at the tournament shocked Ghanaians. Quite recently, the government of Ghana spent 9 million dollars on cooked food for the needy during a three-week COVID 19 lockdown exercise. If you are wondering what was on the menu, it was rice, stew and egg. I can’t even begin to think of the 2 billion dollars the government of Ghana received from the IMF.

It is obvious the indiscipline, callousness, carelessness and avarice in Ghana are not only on the streets. They are in the plush quarters of government offices where nicely dressed gentlemen and ladies in three-piece suits rip off our country “big time”, to use the Ghanaianism, and later parade themselves as hardworking successful citizens of this country.

My mind returns to the situation at hand - the cacophony of shouts inside this Trotro bar one person - myself. A gentleman who sits behind me is almost deadening both ears of mine with shouts urging the passengers to have one voice in order to beat off this late night injustice. He has a point though.

Many a time, the Ghanaian has hidden behind the peace loving mantra while exuding cowardice.

The uproar continues unabated. Some passengers are casting innuendos at the mate. The driver of this Toyota Hiace mini van appears on the scene. He questions one gentleman, the leader of this cartel of four. He asks why he did not tell the passengers the fare has been increased by 30 percent for the night. The passengers keep shouting and arguing from all directions. The driver leaves the scene and enters his driver’s seat. He is ready to start the engine. The mate follows suit, enters the Trotro and bangs the door ingloriously!

This late night coup has failed. The driver, the mate and the other two members of the cartel have to lick their greedy wounds like ravenous hyenas for another night like this. Our resolve and oneness just saved us from forking out 15 cedis!

I can only think of one reason for this practice: they want to prevent their monies from being snatched or they want to ward off misfortune in whatever form or colour.

The whole venture of selling items, especially in these markets, is a spiritual matter. I have heard stories of how women sell items during the day and are not able to reconcile the monies at hand in their purses when the day ends. As it were, the items have been sold, but the money in hand cannot be reconciled with the items sold.

Bombshell!
The money has been snatched spiritually. So, to avert this, these women put a piece of onion or garlic in their money bags.

But can we, for a moment, leave the spiritual world? Is it possible these monies are taken from these bags by people who work with these sellers?

It is even possible the monies are taken by these conmen who just need a second to bump into a trader.
Abracadabra!
Your money goes missing!

Well, I guess onions or garlic work like magic.

Apart from the market women, it is also standard practice for people to put onions in their rooms. Again, the belief is that onions ward off bad spirits, especially the kind of spiritual attacks that happen when one sleeps. I mean, if one has a dream and the person is being chased by chickens, then it surely must be some spiritual attack.

I am spiritual, so don’t get me wrong!

But, there is also the principle of GIGO - Garbage In, Garbage Out! Our minds, through our eyes and ears, easily pick up information around us. Unfortunately, because we cannot decide on how our minds process these (because we are exposed to these things), our minds store them and programme them into our sub-consciousness. From here onwards, anything is possible!

So, perhaps, if you are being chased by some demonic image in your dream, it is because of the horror movie you watched last night. Maybe you should stop listening to too many sensual songs if you keep dreaming of having sex with someone of the opposite sex in your dreams. I don’t even want to think of the case in which a person has a dream of having sex with someone of the same sex. That one needs more prayer!

But, even before I finish telling this tale of fragrant onions in this trotro, pne thing is clear. People don’t just start putting onions in their money bags or in their rooms. This belief in the Ghanaian society is valorized by all kinds of spiritualists, fetish priests, priestesses, even pastors.

Yes!
You read right!
Pastors!

So, if you see someone employing these onions in any way or form, probably “they have been somewhere” and have been told to use the vegetable to improve their fortunes. It’s sad that often, these misfortunes may be as a result of certain careless attitudes we have either in our relationships or in our business dealings. The question is, when the onions do not work, how far would a person go to ensure that his or her fortunes improve just like this neighbour of mine in this trotro?

Anyway, my trotro ride just ended. I am about to board another to my destination. I have two simple prayers: that this neighbour of mine who just gave all of us in this trotro such a welcoming and refreshing fragrant smell of onions will have his or her fortunes sweetened unlike the actual smell of the onions and that I don’t meet the same circumstance in the next trotro I am about to board. Ghana is hot and humid in what is supposed to be a wet season.

I need to smell something refreshing to cool off my mind. My mind needs it.

There was nothing wrong with listening to songs that preached Black emancipation from Western powers. There was nothing wrong with listening to songs that cautioned the youth to be wise in their dealings. Nobody can falter songs that preach the essence of God as the centre of all that there is. After all, the belief in God permeates the African world view. But, there was everything wrong with listening to songs by artistes who over indulged in the usage of marijuana because they spelt doom for young loyalists like Peter. Lest I forget, my first cousin loved Peter Tosh’s music too.

Peter later fellowshipped with some Rastafarians in the neighborhood after completing his Training School Education. He had not yet turned to locks as a symbol of his affiliation to this self-conscious movement. But after he was posted to his station as a teacher, Peter finally gathered the courage to lock his hair. Naturally, he had a lot of hair. His locks grew and flourished like Sampson’s. But the more his locks grew and became thicker, the more his new look and beliefs caused anguish to his mother. His mother almost lost her mind and sought the intervention of many just to get Peter to renounce Rastafarianism. It all proved futile. So the mother turned to prayer and after 10 years, Peter finally mowed the locks from his head. What a relief for his mother!

So here I am, sitting right behind my would-be brother-in-law with my thoughts running wild asking myself, “What is his religious background?”

We were raised as Christians. We believe in Jesus Christ who is part of the Holy Trinity: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. We believe that Jesus Christ, whether, black or white, Jew or African came to save us from our sins and that He is coming back for those who have trusted and believed in Him.

These are beliefs we do not compromise in my family and here I am wondering if this man will genuinely cede to these beliefs or lead my sister astray. How about their children? Are they going to be raised in this conscious movement? Questions of the afterlife and heaven and hell trouble me at this moment.

My mind quickly suspends this whole idea of faith. I then wonder what his educational background is. I remember my sister telling me sometime ago that she won’t become one of those university girls I like. So I am guessing this gentleman sitting in front of me would not have any noteworthy educational credentials since my sister herself lowered them some years ago. That if both of them did not value formal education, then their children would bear the brunt of their beliefs. And how would they work out for an uncle whose aspiration was to become a professor?

All I can hope at this point is that my Rastafarian would-be brother-in-law would have the financial wherewithal to cater to the needs of my sister and their children as I have even wondered in the past the kind of occupation, he is engaged in. I also hope that I do not get burdened with financial requests from my sister when she is married.

These are questions that keep lingering on my mind as I sit behind this gentleman with my head buried on my phone’s screen.

For a moment, something tells me to lift my head. Then I realize that I am close to the junction where I am supposed to alight. I shout from the back towards the driver who has no mate. I am sure he has decided to sit his mate at home due to the harsh economic realities in this country.

“Driver I will alight at Palmwine Juction”. But just before my junction, my would-be brother-in-law alighted at another junction. I could not even hear his departing words as he alighted. I mumbled a faint “yes sir” as a sign of respect to him when he politely told me he had reached his destination.

I move from my seat at the back and alight. The journey is so brief. And I hope this relationship my sister has with this Rastafarian man is as brief as my journey in this trotro from Baabi to Ensi Ha. Am I being stereotypical?

So, just like Joseph’s Coat of Many Colours, I choose to paint these beautiful and realistic stories, for now, from the beautiful interior decor of the trotro, a public transportation system in Ghana to tell the truth that even though Joseph had a Coat of Many Colours and was sold into slavery after which a lie was told by his brothers about his fate, the truth remained that indeed his brothers conspired to sell him into slavery.

The same remains for Ghana, a nation whose leaders have, over and over again, sold the country into modern slavery. The people suffer, the trotro depicts it. These stories however traverse the political, economic and social conditions of the people to the spiritual and cultural realities of Ghanaians.

Welcome into the trotro. Let the journey begin.

Subscribe now

Subscribe now