booths.
“Ah, no shopping today, Abraham Lincoln. I will be in Accra for many months.”
He hid his disappointment with a tiny smile. “You will remember me? Ask for Abraham Lincoln when you return for shopping. I will find you the best deals.”
I nodded and promised I would. From the corner of my eye, I spied fresh coconuts for sale. The young man running the stand held a short machete in one hand and hacked into a green fruit to open it before inserting a plastic bendy straw. The contrast between the ancient knife and modern straw fascinated me, reminding me I wasn’t even on the same continent as Kansas.
I offered to buy Abraham a fresh coconut.
“Coke?” he counter-offered.
After handing him a cold glass bottle Coke, with a green coconut in hand, I strolled down the High Street to Ama’s.
So far, day one in Ghana had been a success.
DESPITE NEVER LEAVING the city, a fine layer of dust and dirt coated my skin when I walked down the terracotta-colored road to Ama’s. I needed a shower or a hose down. The second was a better description for my shower when I turned on the water but forgot to start the water heater first. Luckily, the cold water refreshed me after the heat of wandering the streets. I looked up as the water slowly heated and screamed.
A tiny lizard perched upside down on the ceiling in the corner of the small bathroom. Its body measured no longer than one of my fingers. Size didn’t matter. Its mere presence inside a closed room with a very naked me made my heart stop.
Keeping one eye on the gecko, or whatever it was, I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. I slowly backed out of the room in case it decided to leap down and attack me. I didn’t exhale until I closed the bathroom door. Hopefully it would find its own way back outside.
The lizard fright and adrenaline rush, along with the typical exhaustion which followed a first day in a new, unfamiliar place, crashed over me. Wrapped only in a bath towel, I lay on the bed for a quick nap, hummed to sleep by the air conditioning.
I awoke several hours later, dimmer light peeking through my drapes. Because the sun set around six year round in Ghana, it wasn’t yet time for dinner. Close to the equator, twelve hours of daylight were a given no matter the season.
Before getting dressed, I inspected the bathroom for reptiles and thankfully saw none.
Envious of the colorful skirts and dresses I’d seen on the women earlier, I put on a blue and white striped skirt and jade green shirt to have a bite and maybe a drink at the restaurant.
I took a seat at “my” table with my laptop and notebook. The same young woman from breakfast greeted me and handed me a menu. I found out her name was Sarah, something I overlooked asking earlier.
Before ordering, I confirmed the tonic was cold. Nothing worse than a warm gin and tonic without ice. Some of the European-style hotels might have had filtered ice, but it wasn’t worth taking the chance. My stomach would have preferred drinking tonic with its anti-malarial quinine to the weekly pills I had inside my bag. Either would be preferable to malaria itself. The writer in me could romanticize the tropical disease, but it could be brutal. I double-checked that my purse contained mosquito spray.
The message light on my phone blinked in the darkness of my bag. With the distraction of my near face-plant, meeting a dead president, and close encounter of the scaly kind, I’d forgotten I’d turned it on.
My stomach fluttered when I opened my inbox.
* Akwaaba. Glad you made it. Amsterdam misses you. *
I smiled and reread the short message. He hadn’t given me much to analyze. Sipping my gin and tonic, I plotted my response.
“Mind if I join you?” Ama stood next to my table, holding a glass bottle of Coke.
“Please. I have a million questions for you.”
“We might need snacks for all those questions.” She called Sarah over and asked for some kelewele , my new favorite food. “The way you
“Ah, no shopping today, Abraham Lincoln. I will be in Accra for many months.”
He hid his disappointment with a tiny smile. “You will remember me? Ask for Abraham Lincoln when you return for shopping. I will find you the best deals.”
I nodded and promised I would. From the corner of my eye, I spied fresh coconuts for sale. The young man running the stand held a short machete in one hand and hacked into a green fruit to open it before inserting a plastic bendy straw. The contrast between the ancient knife and modern straw fascinated me, reminding me I wasn’t even on the same continent as Kansas.
I offered to buy Abraham a fresh coconut.
“Coke?” he counter-offered.
After handing him a cold glass bottle Coke, with a green coconut in hand, I strolled down the High Street to Ama’s.
So far, day one in Ghana had been a success.
DESPITE NEVER LEAVING the city, a fine layer of dust and dirt coated my skin when I walked down the terracotta-colored road to Ama’s. I needed a shower or a hose down. The second was a better description for my shower when I turned on the water but forgot to start the water heater first. Luckily, the cold water refreshed me after the heat of wandering the streets. I looked up as the water slowly heated and screamed.
A tiny lizard perched upside down on the ceiling in the corner of the small bathroom. Its body measured no longer than one of my fingers. Size didn’t matter. Its mere presence inside a closed room with a very naked me made my heart stop.
Keeping one eye on the gecko, or whatever it was, I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. I slowly backed out of the room in case it decided to leap down and attack me. I didn’t exhale until I closed the bathroom door. Hopefully it would find its own way back outside.
The lizard fright and adrenaline rush, along with the typical exhaustion which followed a first day in a new, unfamiliar place, crashed over me. Wrapped only in a bath towel, I lay on the bed for a quick nap, hummed to sleep by the air conditioning.
I awoke several hours later, dimmer light peeking through my drapes. Because the sun set around six year round in Ghana, it wasn’t yet time for dinner. Close to the equator, twelve hours of daylight were a given no matter the season.
Before getting dressed, I inspected the bathroom for reptiles and thankfully saw none.
Envious of the colorful skirts and dresses I’d seen on the women earlier, I put on a blue and white striped skirt and jade green shirt to have a bite and maybe a drink at the restaurant.
I took a seat at “my” table with my laptop and notebook. The same young woman from breakfast greeted me and handed me a menu. I found out her name was Sarah, something I overlooked asking earlier.
Before ordering, I confirmed the tonic was cold. Nothing worse than a warm gin and tonic without ice. Some of the European-style hotels might have had filtered ice, but it wasn’t worth taking the chance. My stomach would have preferred drinking tonic with its anti-malarial quinine to the weekly pills I had inside my bag. Either would be preferable to malaria itself. The writer in me could romanticize the tropical disease, but it could be brutal. I double-checked that my purse contained mosquito spray.
The message light on my phone blinked in the darkness of my bag. With the distraction of my near face-plant, meeting a dead president, and close encounter of the scaly kind, I’d forgotten I’d turned it on.
My stomach fluttered when I opened my inbox.
* Akwaaba. Glad you made it. Amsterdam misses you. *
I smiled and reread the short message. He hadn’t given me much to analyze. Sipping my gin and tonic, I plotted my response.
“Mind if I join you?” Ama stood next to my table, holding a glass bottle of Coke.
“Please. I have a million questions for you.”
“We might need snacks for all those questions.” She called Sarah over and asked for some kelewele , my new favorite food. “The way you
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