My okada dream
My late great grandmother, popularly known as Nana Adwoa Kumasi, had nothing but withering contempt for motorbikes.
She felt that the pedestrian walking in the rain was far better off than he who had spent good money to purchase a motorbike only to be soaked whenever he was out and about and it was raining.
Advertisement
To her, bicycles were even worse due to the sheer manpower one needed to move along, unless one was travelling downhill, of course.
She once remarked that she did not trust two-wheeled contraptions because unlike the four-wheeled, they could fall over quickly, dragging the rider or riders along.
Burkina Faso experience
As a young, handsome undergraduate, I spent the 1990/91 academic year at the University of Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso, along with my Legon course mates, as part of our French programme.
All the male students bought bicycles out of the transport allowance that were given specifically for that purpose and it made the daily commute to the university much simpler.
The ladies had no shortage of male Burkinabe university students offering them lifts to and from the university campus, which meant they got to save their allowance.
I made friends with a university laboratory technician called Serge and he taught me how to ride a motorbike. It was an enjoyable experience, made more so by the fact that it is a very popular means of getting around and the riders.
It was amusing to watch riders mass up at the traffic lights whenever they turned red and, then, when the lights turn green, rev up their engines and surge ahead with a mighty buzz, like a swarm of excited bees.
As a general rule, motorbike users in Burkina Faso do respect and observe all relevant road safety regulations.
Ghana experience
In Ghana, I have aligned fully with one of my great grandmother’s fears because of the terrible reputation that motorbikes have and the horror stories of reckless riding and catastrophic accidents, especially when it comes to ‘okada’, the motorbikes used for transporting passengers on a commercial basis.
I thank my stars I have never witnessed an okada accident or its aftermath.
My only experience on a motorbike in this country was about six years ago when a friend, Robert, who worked for a courier company, gave me a ride on his motorbike from Circle to GBC.
He rode at top speed as if possessed by 77 demons and he was being pursued by Lucifer himself, swerving here and there as I clung to him for dear life and my heart leapt into my mouth.
After the torment came to an end, I said to myself ‘Never Again’. I have kept my word.
Okada 2020
Okada has found its way into our political terrain as the elections approach because the National Democratic Congress (NDC) has publicly committed itself to legalising the activities of okada operators if it wins the 2020 election.
Never mind the fact that on July 4, 2012, during the tenure of an NDC government, with the then Vice-President being the party’s current flag bearer going into this year’s elections, Parliament passed the Road Traffic Regulation, 2012 (Legislative Instrument LI 2180), which, inter-alia, bans the commercial use of motorbikes (okada). LI 2180 states, in part “A person shall not use or permit a motorcycle or tricycle over which that person exercises control to be used for commercial purposes except for courier and delivery services...”
While a political party is entitled to a policy U-turn on any issue of its choice, I believe citizens are also entitled to question the sincerity of that U-turn, especially when it has not been served alongside the reason for the U-turn in the first place and particularly in the run-up to a general election.
Incredulous as it may sound, okada has, therefore, become an election matter, alongside traditionally big issues such as the economy, health, education, education among others.
The shouting matches that often pass for debates in this country have, therefore, fitted into the narrative, often etched in the partisan fault lines.
Cold, hard facts
In all of this, many seem to have lost certain key, incontestable facts, which I think are quite important and should shape our conversation about where we are going with this.
First, like many laws in our statute books, LI 2180 only sits beautifully in dark storerooms, as ‘okada’ does roaring trade not under the cover of darkness but right in our faces and under the nose in broad daylight too, thereby making a mockery of it.
I once saw an okada ‘station’ just around the corner of a police station.
Second, in the nation’s capital with its horrendous traffic gridlock at times, okada fills the void for some in getting from A to B, especially when time is of absolute essence.
In an article in the African Studies Quarterly publication (Vol 15, Issue 34, September 2015) Mark Osei Ababio and Ernest Oppong argue that the rapidly decline of public transport systems, together with rapidly urbanising cities have resulted in increased urban congestion, forcing some commuters into what they call ‘creative solutions’ to address their transport needs.
It is within this context, among others, that there has been a proliferation of okada in African cities, known invariably as alalok (Nigeria), kabu-kabu (Niger), boda-boda (Uganda and Kenya), zemidjan (Benin), oleyia (Togo) and bendskin (Cameroun).
Thousands depend on them to earn a living and that is a big deal in this country, where youth unemployment is a harsh reality.
Third, it is a fact that in many rural areas, roads are either useless or simply do not exist and in such places, okada has been a lifesaver, literally transporting the sick and the heavily pregnant to to access healthcare services.
Fourth, okada or motorbikes in general, are not necessarily dangerous machines, contrary to the fears of my great grandmother.
Just like cars, if they are not used properly and safely, they become killing machines. That does not make cars inherently dangerous.
Fifth is the fact that we are just terrible at enforcing regulations and standards, as the pretence of a ban by law of okada, dating back to 2012, has shown us. After all, how hard is it for a government to use its majority in Parliament to pass or repeal a particular law?
Regularisation vs regulation
Against this background, I dare say that the regularisation of okada by law is the easiest part of the solution to the horrific realities of okada. But regularisation must go hand-in-hand with regulation and enforcement, otherwise it is meaningless.
We cannot wish away the reality of okada, but there must be a clear plan beyond legalisation.
With regulation comes payment of taxes through Metropolitan, Municipal and District Assemblies (MMDAs), insurance requirement, licencing through approved training institutions, vehicle road worthiness, appropriate clothing and footwear, compliance with road traffic regulations, motorbike roadworthiness and a raft of others.
Of course, all these will cost the okada operator money before he can set his two wheels on the road.
I wonder, rather idly, whether in the euphoria expressed by many of these riders following the NDC’s policy announcement, they have reflected on this reality.