A quiet revolution is unfolding on Ghana’s chaotic city roads, where the meteoric rise of tricycle taxis, locally called Pragya, has ignited a fierce battle for survival between traditional taxi drivers and the nimble three-wheeled vehicles now dominating street corners.
While Pragyas have become a symbol of youth employment and affordable transit, their unchecked expansion has sparked calls for urgent regulation to prevent a full-blown transport turf war.
For drivers like Ismael Larbi, a 43-year-old taxi operator on the Dome-Madina route, the Pragya boom has turned livelihoods upside down. “Before, I earned up to 500 cedis daily. Now, I struggle to make 250,” he told The High Street Journal, gesturing to rows of idle taxis at Dome Market. “Passengers choose Pragyas because they’re cheaper, but these tricycles aren’t safe. We pay taxes and follow rules—they don’t. It’s unfair.”
Larbi’s frustration mirrors a growing backlash. Taxi drivers nationwide report plummeting incomes, blaming Pragyas for undercutting fares and flouting safety norms. The three-wheelers, often overloaded with passengers, weave through traffic with minimal training or oversight. “I’ve seen Pragyas flip over after hitting potholes,” Larbi added. “But people risk it to save a few cedis.”
The numbers tell a stark story. Pragya drivers, largely young men in a country where youth unemployment tops 12%, earn 300–500 cedis daily ferrying passengers through congested neighborhoods. Their agility allows them to navigate narrow alleys taxis can’t reach, offering door-to-door convenience. For riders like Grace Acheampong, a market trader in Madina, Pragyas are a lifeline. “They’re faster and cheaper. Why pay 20 cedis for a taxi when Pragya charges 10?” she said.
Yet this convenience comes at a cost. Veteran taxi driver Osei Bonsu, known as Bombey, has watched his clientele vanish over two decades in the business. “I sit for hours without a ride,” he said. “Pragyas are good for jobs, but there’s no balance. We’re being erased.” Bonsu urges zoning rules: “Let Pragyas serve inner communities. Keep taxis on main roads.”
The clash underscores a broader dilemma. While Pragyas absorb thousands of Ghana’s jobless youth—a pressing need in an economy still recovering from inflation spikes—their informal status raises safety and regulatory red flags. Unlike taxis, which require licenses, insurance, and routine inspections, many Pragyas operate off-the-books. The Ghana Private Road Transport Union (GPRTU) now faces mounting pressure to mediate.
“This isn’t just about competition—it’s about order,” said transport analyst Ekua Mensah. “Without designated routes, safety checks, and fair fee structures, tensions will explode.” She points to cities like Lagos and Nairobi, where unregulated tricycle wars led to violent clashes.
Passengers, however, remain divided. While Pragyas win on price and accessibility, taxis retain an edge for safety and bulk goods transport. “I’ll use a taxi if I’m carrying heavy items,” admitted Acheampong. “But for daily errands, Pragya’s king.”
As calls for government intervention grow, the GPRTU hints at compromise. Proposals include licensing Pragya drivers, enforcing passenger limits, and banning tricycles from major highways. “Coexistence is possible,” said union rep Kwame Asante. “But we need rules that protect both sides.”
For now, the streets of Accra remain a microcosm of Ghana’s struggle to balance innovation and tradition. With taxi drivers threatening protests and Pragya operators vowing defiance, the state’s next move could determine whether this transport revolution becomes a blueprint for inclusion—or a catalyst for chaos.
