Judging a Man By His Car in The City of Accra

Those commission-quaffing attendants would not compete for the tank of the crickety Corolla. The driver did not look like he could buy half the fuel to power a tiny rodent. But I know him. He also owns one of those shiny Chrysler almost-jet para-cars. The next time he taxies that in here, they will break one another's noses to air-traffic-control him to their pump just to sell him a gallon.

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Death by Hanging in the City of Accra

Prisoners spend long, lazy, luxuriant hours in the plentiful sun of Nsawam Prisons. I have heard it said that killing is barbaric in all cases. Thus, Ghana must be barbaric for keeping the death penalty. In truth, nobody has been executed in almost 20 years. So murderers and other insanely-wicked criminals know they will be sentenced to death, but bask in the tropical soleil until old age strangles them. In 2 cases, convicted murderers have even been released on a presidential pardon.

The Chinese City of Accra

A quarter-century ago in the city of Accra, if it was pretty and made by human hands, it was made in Japan, Taiwan or Korea. Now every ‘desirable’ is imitated made in China – hair, toys, laptops, clothes, cameras and a few cars. Added to this, you can see a Chinese man on every other street of Accra. How this place has changed!

Cheating Nature in the City of Accra

A woman-beggar haunts the 37 intersection, especially at night. She does not cadge the Cedis directly - she uses children for emotional blackmail. She must have a foolish frau somewhere ‘lending’ her the little darlings (I have seen different ones) to bore a hole through your heart and your wallet. What she did last Friday, however, won the pitiful prize. She was hip-hoisting a 10-12 year old while wincing 'neath the wily weight. Mehhhhnnnn!

Hearse-Racing in the City of Accra

What irreconcilable irony! I was creeping down the Independence Avenue at high noon, when a packed trotro whiz-zigzagged through the traffic and shot past adrift of me. A jet-black Mercedes hearse ‘deathed’ past at full-hell speed in the other lane. Its casket chamber was empty and hungry for a body or two. A trotro kamikaze-racing a hearse in thick traffic – how do you think this curtains will drop on this scene? I suggest a full hearse.

Grooming with Horse Powder in the City of Accra

Office mate and I went to the barber’s. On his countertop was a big powder container. It had the picture of a horse on it and was labelled in Turkish. Were we wrong to allege that he was using horse powder for humans? After all, powder usually has the picture of a human baby or woman on it, no? And the container was so big, it had to be for 'stable' use.

The Fairest of Them All

I loved Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales when I was growing up. I still do. There are millions of lessons in there; and they all lived happily ever after.

The thing is when it came to girls I loved the fairest of them all. We may all pretend that fair means beautiful, but it also meant light-skinned. Try calling Naomi Campbell the fairest woman in a room full of white English gentlemen and ladies.

The point is it was not until not long ago that women of other races were allowed “beautiful” at the same level as Caucasian women. I am not exploring racialism here; just the effect of words on the subconscious mind.

So, when I was growing up, all my legendary crushes were light-skinned girls. It took my twenties to realise the big, open truth that very dark girls could be fair beautiful too.

At this point, this post could go in any of many directions, but I’ll end it here and leave it to the comments.