Sweet Rainy Morning

In the showery, half-light morning, on the glistening arch arteries of asphyxiated Accra, the downtown drive is slippery, but smooth and swift. The breeze is brisk: barely beginning to bite. I would do anything for this dream downpour drive every morning.

Salt, Soap and Coca Cola

An unfinished domestic in a friend’s house cannot spout a word of everyday English, they say. She does not admit “salt” or “soap” or “television”. But she utters “TV”, “MTN”, “switched off” and “Coca Cola” on autopilot.

Captain Hook’s Spell

An urbane, cosy restaurant in the Labone/Cantoments neighbourhood in the City of Accra. Its specialty is sea food, and its menu shows both a wide-range fare and healthy high, advance-knowledge prices. It has, how shall we say, maritime decor with mammoth turtle shells, and ‘ship timber’ and ... is that whale bone I saw on the walls? But the one thing that does marvels for my hunger is the sexily short skirts the waitresses wear; and we know the ancient spell that the waitress casts.

Accra Crime Alert – The Case for DIY?

When a domestic doodad breaks down, and you allow in wandering workmen to repair, they may not only come calling; they may also come casing! The Police says the risk runs even with imposters invested in utility company coveralls. Since security-check results are a Haley’s Comet, maybe this is a case for DIY, in the City of Accra, no?

What if your Partner...

If you discovered that your devoted “Darby” or “Joan” of three years had been dribbling deliberately into your dinner or drink every time they were disconcerted by you, what would you do?

The Four-Wheel-Drive Complex

A Jurassic Jeep driver flies past me on the dirt-rocky Spintex Road at 6 a.m., at full, bitumen-surface speed, and cuts into my lane. A sand truck rockets a little rock which cracks the jinxed Jeep’s windscreen. The junk Jeep driver chases the truck...for what?

2 Things You do that I Hate

Red-lighted at the National Theatre, I was wondering why some Accraians keep the protective plastic sheets on the seats to flaunt their shiny, new cars. Just then, I swept over a tall, young woman stand-squatting with legs spread poles apart, lifted skirt, bag armpit-bound, tight-toned thighs, nice...but she was jetting piss in the perpendicular of her triangular legs. I looked hard to catch her face...and the lips she was flashing, but it was dragging dark, and the green lights galled me to go.