Kokodede!

An early evening a few days ago, and I'm browsing through my magazines on the bed when I hear "rrr'bit". As I look up I see a frog, (yes, a frog, groda, kokodede), hopping across the room! I have never been afraid of frogs, never felt anything towards them, except for pure hatred for the loud noise they make, but seeing one in a bedroom, and in light of the...unkind things I may have written about them before, I felt that this frog was here for revenge. As I screamed and stood up on the bed, I watched the little monster hop to safety in a corner under a chair.

In true fifties-dependent-feeble-housewife style, with no regard to my usual feminist, independent streak, I called Virgo and demanded he interrupt his evening with SQB to come and rescue me from my misery. For the longest 8 minutes ever, I sat, heart racing, fingers shaking as I tried to continue reading the magazine whilst checking whether the frog had moved, every two seconds. When Virgo finally arrived, he got the daughter of the family in the boys-quarters to remove the frog by placing it on a newspaper and covering it with a broom before releasing it into the garden. I swear I saw her smile a bit at me as she saw my terrified face.

As soon as the frog was safely outside again, I could laugh at my ridiculous hysteria. If I hadn't panicked, I could have called the girl instead of making Virgo interrupt his evening. And yet, even though I see the funny side of it all now, my heart jumps every time something flickers in the corner of my eye. After all, you never know when Kermit will strike again.

Kermit must die

Written at 5:25 a.m. this morning:

I hate frogs. Those evil little so and so's have kept me up all night with their constant noise. As soon as I'd fall asleep, they'd raise the volume to a higher decibel.

I do NOT function well without sleep! So if you're in the Greater Accra Region today, do not cross my path. Don't worry, you'll recognise me, I'm the one with a dark cloud across my face and bags under my eyes.

Grrr...

The city that never sleeps

Lying in bed, trying to sleep, well I guess I'm not actively trying as I am still online. I can't help but wonder if Accra is the real city that never sleeps.

As the frogs croak (what do frogs do?), louder than most agricultural machines, it seems the crickets, who usually hold the monopoly on nighttime noise feel intimated and are trying to out-sound them. All in all, a cacophony of natural sounds. (It reminds me somewhat of the awful sound machine Berger had in Sex & the City!)

At Virgo's house, the music blasting from the speakers of nearby drinking spots drown out any possibility of peace at night, but if you were to have a party, at least you'd save on the cost of a dj. ;)

On weekend nights, the night clubs and charismatic churches compete with each other outside my window, in the battle between sinful enjoyment and God-fearing worship, a battle so similar to the one I am currently witnessing between the frogs and the crickets, until both groups seem to collapse somewhere between 1.30 and 3a.m.

It seems both man-made groups and nature's animals are scared to let Ghana sleep in peace. Why? Afraid she'll never wake up? Every now and then the frogs stop for a few minutes, to catch their breath I guess, and the crickets simultaneously lower the volume of their surround-sound buzzing. But within minutes they are back on track, making sure you never forget that there was almost a moment of silence.

On behalf of all troubled sleepers I send all you noise makers a little prayer: keep quiet for once please, let Ghana and all her residents hear the sound of silence. I assure you, Ghana, and I too, will wake up tomorrow a happier, well rested creature with enough energy to take on another day.

Goodnight.

Rest in peace, Mona Seilitz.