Last week, Kweku, my Ghanaian friend dragged me to his country. The Lagos to Accra flight was
short and interesting. We touched down at Kotoka international airport and underwent all the
“What is that bag you are holding?” The immigration official asked me.
“It is my Ghana must go bag”
“What did you say?” he raised his eyebrow and his gun.
“Ghana must grow bag sir!”
“Chaley, Akwaba! Welcome to Ghana!” He said with a smile.
…where is the gold? Where is the nkara, where is the kente? What can I bring back home for
The sights and sounds of Accra were breathtaking. We drove to Elmina castle, Labadi pleasure
beach, Kwama Nkrumah mausoleum and Makola market. We went window shopping at Marina
Time to eat! A nice eatery located at No. 4, Mango tree avenue, Accra.
“Mama Efua, give this my naija friend a delicious Ghana meal so that he would taste and see that
Ghana has the best dishes ever!
“Naija man, there is Kenkey and Banku here, do you want it?”
“There is ground nut soup with fufu if you are interested…”
“There is waakaye here o”
“There is Shito here too”
“Bring…wait! Does it taste like s--t?
“Don’t insult my food you this anago man!”
“There is jollof rice here o”
“Don’t bring it! Nigerian jollof tastes better!”
“Who said so? Do you know Michael Essien is better than Mikel Obi?”
“Blasphemy! Mercy Johnson is better than Yvonne Nelson”
“Majid Michael is better than Ramsey Noah”
“You people paaa, stop arguing and eat now”
My stomach almost burst with the different varieties of food on the table. Kweku managed to
drag me to the five star Movenpick Ambassador hotel where I would be spending the night.
“Let’s go and see Sarkodie”
“Sarkodie is at this hotel?”
We met the rapper sitting on a reclining chair beside the swimming pool.
“Good day sir, are you Sarkodie?” I asked.
“Obideponbede! What else?”
“Its nice to meet you. I listen to your songs. Can you rap one for me?”
“You know what time it is?” He asked.
“Yes bro” Kweku interjected and continued, “I want to take this my Naija friend to a club tonight
but the small wahala be say money no too dey”
“You know say money no be problem!” Sarkodie exclaimed and tossed a stack of fresh Cedi
notes at us.
“Thank you sah!”
“No wahala, aboki be my guy!”
12 midnight at the night club.
A colourful, crowded place filled with boisterous revelers and night crawlers drinking and
dancing. Alomo bitters, Orijin and akpeteshie guzzling down parched throats.
Fine boys and sexy girls everywhere.
…Are you Ghana dance o, if I show you my money?…
The wicked Dj was spinning the latest hits on his turn table. I was content with just sitting and
watching until when Mansa by Bisa Kdei was cued in. I stood up and joined the fray.
” Agro yi m3di adi adiaa
Mansa me nansi Kwan so a me ba eee ee
S3 agro no adu soa k)sh3 wo nika ee ee
Y3 b3 gye y3 ani eee a
Y3b3 nom adidi eee a
Yensaa y3nsa ooo”
Azonto, etighi, shoki, atilogwu, ekombi…
My waist bone was threatening to Brexit my body if I don’t call it a day.
Kweku walked towards me with two beautiful ladies.
“Leroi, meet Akosua and Denise, they would keep you company tonight. You are gonna enjoy
tonight kuraa, two fine and fresh girls for you”
“I don’t understand, you brought them to me for what?”
“You know say bodi no be firewood naw”
“Kweku, I can’t…I am born again and I am going to be ordained a deacon in church in few years
time so I cannot…”
“You paaaaaa, flex jor and leave that thing”
One of the girls leaned over to me and whispered..
“…the spirit is indeed willing but the flesh is weak…”
I nodded my head and took up their arms.
…But who is that white man in spectacles seated a few metres away and staring hard at me?
“Oh, that is Ambassador James Entwistle, the American Ambassador to your centry, Nigeria. He
is here in Ghana for a conference and…”
I swiftly dropped their arms and fled the scene.
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