I just love this wonderful city; her many friendly residents whose number is ... nobody really knows :) She sees very little violent crime. (She is one of the safest cities in the world, no?) Her busy and not-so-freshly-scented streets make an almighty morning din. But behind it all lies an easygoing, ever-smiling, all-embracing capital. That is the city of Accra in the fiery, fiery day.
As the thermal day puffs along, the young evening pokes her fine-breeze face round the fat and sweltering behind of the sticky afternoon :) Dark clouds steal across the Accraian sky, plunging the corners of her skirt in a thick and plastic darkness.
There are street lights everywhere! They dutifully line the quickly-emptying streets. The street lights are a bit like the pretty Accra girls. You come across one every ten metres. But this is where the rhyme and reason ends.
They should just be called street poles, for they do not give out any light. Even when the lovely Volta has grown big and mature, and is flaunting all her full and swollen parts, the streets and spaces in Accra will not be bold, light up, and come out and play :) Amazing, totally amazing,that creepy, unspeakable things do not come crawling out of the frightening night.
I feel repeatedly raped and helpless when, every month, we are levied on account of the street lights. Why, do they light up every stately room of the magnificent castles we happily build in the thickening air of the city of Accra? :)