Road-building in Accra

Reputable road-builders from Europe and China carve, chisel and plane our African roads with some of their cutting-edge knowhow. In no time, the rains tumble and devour deep holes into the roads and into the reputations of these firms.

Funeral Party in Accra

Twenty cars whizzed through the court-road traffic at high noon towards the Korle quarter of Accra ferrying feisty, frolicking funeral-goers (not mourners) in white Adinkra fabric. They sped on-the-verge-of, and ignored the static cars in the lunch-hour queue, looking to ram through anybody who dared to enter from a side route. Some were beating deafening drums and playing loud-park music, while a camera van 'panoramaed' it on tape. Happy people decked in white (a 40-something-year-old woman winked at me). The deceased must have been very old.

The Lure of the Chieftain

Folds of fine, woven cotton in ivory and azure, sunflower and crimson. Gold bangles, bracelets, rings and ancient pendants. Cowries, beads, a hand-crafted, silken, horsehair whisk and fine-leather sandals. A dark crown-hat with bright reddish-gold and silver sequins, spangles and medallions. Such human pride and splendour. What are his interests: service or ‘serve his’?

The Nsawam Breadline

A few kilometres outside Accra, on the horrid highway to Kumasi, a ‘livelihood’ line of bread sellers stretches as long as the eyes can see. This is the town of Nsawam. Its dying buildings tackle the streets tightly, threatening to tumble any moment. The main street is a narrow tar strip with edges gobbled jagged by time, rain and native neglect. The baker’s design suggests that all the bread is baked and browned in one bakery or two. So, how does one know whose bread to buy? I’ll start with the first rustic Pretty I see with an idyllic smile. When the new highway bypasses this town, no cars will come this way. The bread line and the famous Nsawam bread will simply go away.

African Cow

A Shaman Coven killed an African cow to make ‘Bafana’ swift and strong, and maybe even win The Cup. When ‘Bafana’ led Mexico by one, the European commentator frisked frivolous fun that the spell was holding fine. The African co-commentator, short on humour, high on pretence, solemnly stumped that “How can these things ever work?” Then Marquez brought “el tri” level. I wonder who was really the cow!

Human Furniture

As seen in a picture sent in by a friend. Just the thing so many have been looking for; and it's free!

Wet, Wading Wednesday

It poured ‘Pacifics’ on Wednesday from 6 pm till ... was it midnight? The traffic network at 11 pm was daylight-dense and rush-hour thick. A respectable car was stalled every fifty metres even in this ‘good’ side of town between Ridge and the Accra Mall. River islands swept across the streets and made Accra’s wild drivers timid. Crowds! Crowds of people milled everywhere, turning bus stops into midnight markets. People ‘legged’ it over ten kilometres, and got ‘there’ soaked but before the crippled cars. I did not tune in to the night news - I did not want to deal with the misery that would surely flood into the ‘bad’ parts of Accra.