The daylight gathers up her see-through dirndl, and strides out of the city centre with the frayed and frazzled workers ... and sluggish stragglers. As the city lies naked and exposed, we lustfully espy her prize assets which were hidden earlier on by the detumescent denizen - pavements; walkways; road signs; wide and clean block facades, in the sepia evening light.
As the sun plunges her curtains, a few street lights catch an ecru flame, but the open-space glamour does not last long. Scores of Accraians flood into the wan light, carrying tables and chairs and sacks on carts. This is the Accra Night Market setting up. Kenkey, suya, shoes and phones; clothes, virility drugs, cheap perfumes; fakes, dupes, knock-offs, ersatz goods.
Other tradesmen hover around the edge of the elfin light, preferring to do their business in the dark: the skin trade, muggers, loafers, Ali Baba’s forty thieves and the dishevelled and moonstruck men retailing a whole lot of powder!