I hate Ghana drivers. Okay, maybe hate is too strong a word. As a child of God, I know the only thing I’m supposed to hate is the devil and his schemes. But sometimes? Sometimes, I just can’t help it. It genuinely feels like these drivers were placed on this earth to test my patience—and my blood pressure.
I grew up in Nigeria—Port Harcourt, to be precise—so trust me, I’ve seen my fair share of road rage, crazy drivers, and even crazier conductors. But Ghana drivers? They’re in a class of their own. A different breed entirely. And the madness knows no boundaries—bike riders, tro tro drivers, taxi men, private car owners... it’s a united front of chaos.
Only in this country will you find a car dragging road with you. I mean, the tiny patch of sidewalk I’ve managed to claim as my walking space, and now I have to wrestle a whole car for it?
And the first thing that shocked me when I came to this country was the fact that drivers barely use their car horns—especially at night.
Ahhh! Something that was installed in the car for the sole purpose of alerting people—or at least warning them you’re passing—you said mba nu! You don’t want to use it. Instead, you’ll drive till your headlights are kissing the back of my knees. Haew!
For a while, I genuinely thought maybe the cars here didn’t come with horns. And honestly, with how funny-looking some of these cars are, I wouldn’t have been surprised. So I decided to ask. Only for someone to tell me—with a straight face—that it’s because they don’t want to “make noise.” Imagine that! And apparently, they actually teach this in driving schools!
You see, that’s the difference between Nigerian and Ghanaian drivers. A Nigerian will start honking from miles away—whether you’re there or not—just so nobody can say they didn’t know a car was coming. In fact, the horn is like a public service announcement: “Clear the road! I dey come o!”
Meanwhile, in Ghana, you’ll be halfway through your walk, vibing to your playlist, and suddenly a car appears out of nowhere like a ghost from a horror movie. No horn, no warning—just vibes and bright lights in your face.
At this point, I’ve stopped being surprised. I just keep my eyes wide open, my reflexes sharp, and my last will and testament up to date. Because one thing about Ghanaian drivers—they will keep you on your toes.
And honestly? I think that’s their mission.
But you know what? I’ve decided to take it all in stride. Maybe, just maybe, God is using Ghanaian roads to teach me long-suffering. Every reckless swerve, every silent approach, every tro tro that thinks it's playing hide and seek—it's all part of my divine character development.
So next time I’m tempted to rain down holy judgment, I’ll just close my eyes, breathe deep, and whisper, “Lord, help me love them… even when they forget to use their horn.”
Because at the end of the day, if Jesus could forgive those who nailed Him to a cross, I guess I can forgive the man who almost ran me off the road.
All images are mine
