Taxis in Accra deserve their own blog. There are thousands of cabs here and their honking to get your attention is part of the soundtrack of the city. Most are old cars, some held together with wire, some barely held together at all. I can't remember how many times the driver has had to get out to open the passenger door. Seat belts work, sometimes. (I don't get into a car without one, Mom.) Drivers are mostly young men (I've yet to see a woman) who brave the terrible traffic and bad driving and lack of stop signs. They can get to only very well known landmarks so you have to know how to get where you're going. Those of you who know my sense of direction and navigation skills: pause for laughter.
I have been quite frustrated by taxis yet have also had some great conversations about the country, the presidents...Mills AND Obama....and life here in Accra.
Taxis represent the frustration and ingenuity that is making a living here.
On the way back from Melcom (like Kmart) the taxi I was riding in didn't start at a red light. I assumed that the car had stalled. The driver simply said, "Out of gas" then proceeded to leave the cab. As I didn't know where I was or what he was doing, I stayed put contemplating how a cab driver could run out of gas.
A few minutes later, the cab driver reappears, opens my door, grabs one of my bags, telling me to get into the other cab he had flagged down. The two cabbies negotiated on splitting the fare, I got into the second cab, and off I went. I'm sure the cabbie used my 2 cedis to buy more gas and picked up a new ride in short order. Ingenuity.
BTW, one doesn't yell :Taxi" here. You either point down toward the ground in front of you or you hiss. I can't quite bring myself to hissing but I stopped putting my hand up in the air at least.