Kube Cake

Coconut shavings desiccated and roasted in golden sunrays; devilishly varnished in creamy caramel; ‘butterly’ balled up before it cools and crystallises. Textured, golden globes of pleasure.

Kelewele

Deep-fried-till-golden, diced, ginger-glorified plantain, sweetening the Accra night air. Pecked while still hot and almost aglow. Relish with roasted groundnuts if you wish. Love it, but don’t be a calorie counter.

Airport Shell

It squats on the auxiliary artery which leads from the Airport roundabout to the Gifford Road (to Burma Camp). It used to be closed at 1 a.m. until armed robbers registered their unwanted approval. Now all the lights go out at 11 p.m. It serves fuel; flaunts a ‘corner store’; holds a handy garage; seduces with the Cockpit Grill, and exposes a car park to stand at if you wish ‘Airport’, ‘East Legon’ and ‘Spintex Road’ to see you on their way home at night.

The Corner Store

Every neighbourhood has one. Maybe had, before the ultra exclusive ones came along. Not always crouching at a street corner, corner stores are a really neat convenience; the slightly-steeper-than-market prices are worth it because they save you the long drive to town. But if you want more than something between chalk and cheese, then head to Shoprite (Tetteh Quashie), Max Mart (37) or, maybe, Koala (Osu). And good luck with the stifling steel snake.

Parasites, Pesewas & Porridge

“I will give you 50p.” That’s what the attendants announce to you at a well-known fast food chain in the City of Accra. What they really mean is that they will be keeping your change, because they do not have any. Imagine this – they will make GHC 150 if they do this to 300 ‘victims’ a day! The receipts they give out around 9 p.m. show that they take close to 400 orders daily. Some supplementary income! And when you come out to the car park, some security guard accosts you and asks for “some coins for Koko* for Old Man.”

*Koko - cornmeal porridge

Hand Culture – Eating Sticky Food

At Tante Marie (specialists in West African Cuisine), an interracial couple rendezvous with its Ghanaian friends. The Missus looks of Germanic stock; the Mister is a dusted-with-coal Rastafarian. They’re both clothed all in white. It’s a celebration! Among them huddles a little granddad in a giant’s ancient suit and a failing backbone that makes his head hang below his bony shoulders, as his dirty, white beard almost brushes the tabletop. He’s stuffing Banku and Tilapia into his pinched mouth with a fork. But, to really clean the flesh off the fish bones, he finds that he has to use his good old hands.

Traditional African Soap

For many, ‘European’ Soap smells nice, but leaves them with spotted, speckled skin. They’ll still not fall back on Alata Samina, Black Honey Soap or some similar ‘African’ Soap because they do not smell like heaven, although they leave your face as smooth as heaven’s highway. Lately, though, the soap-makers have caught on to sweetening their cleansers with Pear and Aloe, Lemon and Citronella. And now ‘modern’ people can avoid the pineapple face and still leave the shower with some natural, seductive fragrance.