Sunday, September 16, 2007
The taxis are all old and yellow. Many of them look like they belong in a junkyard rather than the road. I have had one break down while I was in it, but it does happen. Since the roads of Monrovia are primarily unpaved and filled with giant holes, the care are rather abused. It's no wonder they look the way they do.
The taxi's are often painted with phrases such as "No food for lazy man" or "Surrounded by God's blessing." Some phrases are much more colourful. I really need to start writing them down.
Most taxi's are meant to hold five people, including the driver. However, the generally carry no less then seven and sometimes as many as nine. Two people share the front seat and the rest pile in the back. You really just feel the love.
And the bumps.
I always try to strike up a conversation with the driver. It's an interesting way to learn more about the culture. Many of the drivers aren’t from Liberia and come from neighbouring countries.
Today I learned our driver has four "fine" children who he lives in Monrovia with. He and his family have always lived in Liberia and they did not leave during the war. I asked if it was scary to be in Liberia during that time. He told me it was, but he lived in the bush and was able to hide from the rebel soldiers. The taxi were rode in did not actually belong to him. He worked for someone. Many of the drivers own the cars they drive.
A ride in a taxi is always an experience. The only rule of driving that seems to apply here is to look out if you hear a horn honking. Someone is probably about to hit you.
Horns are so valuable.