In Ghana everyone drives crazy. But it isn’t crazy to them, it’s only crazy to the outsiders. In Accra there is big city traffic with very few traffic lights. There are roundabouts full of motorbikes, buses, taxis, vans, and Hyundai’s–yet somehow everyone is able to successfully merge. I have yet to see one accident. People always honk; however, they don’t lean on the horn for thirty seconds as the drivers in Chicago and New York do. It’s more like a courtesy. There is nothing manic about the way people drive in Accra. The people understand the basic fact that the road belongs to everyone. 

Merging in Accra feels very dangerous if you’re sitting in the front seat of a Bolt. Your driver accelerates into oncoming traffic. He seemingly lurches right into another vehicle, and you brace yourself for an accident that never happens. He never makes contact with the other car. The other motorist breaks at the very last second. Miraculously, the other driver doesn’t put his head out of the window and scream something profane about your driver’s mother. Nor does he take out a pistol and start shooting. He just yields. That’s it. It always happens that way. I’ve seen evil looks and aggressive horn taps, but I haven’t witnessed any road rage, and I haven’t seen any accidents at all. This, in one of the most congested cities in West Africa with potholes one meter deep, very little white paint on the asphalt to indicate lane separation, and almost no stop signs. The Ghanaian people just make it work. I don’t know if car insurance is even a thing here. If you order a car from the ride sharing app called Bolt, then there is a 90% chance that the seatbelts in your car will not work. All you have in terms of safety are faith and prayer. The drivers though–to their credit–always get you to your destination. They must maneuver through motorcycles with entire families on them including three small children. They turn down blind backroads with pedestrians, stray dogs, and other vehicles only alerting their presence with the sound of their motor and two rhythmic honks of the horn; “Beep, beep.” Everything is harmonious. The drivers of Ghana loudly speak the language of their commute even if you can’t comprehend it just yet. They demand that you learn it through immersion. There will be no accommodating and no negotiations.