Every few months it happens again, the feeling washes over me. This time I think I’ve caused it myself, reading too many blogs and local papers, so now it must be admitted...I miss Gothenburg!!!
In Ebbas blog she’s just gone back to Gothenburg and I actually feel jealous (as in proper sulky jealousy) as she describes sitting at Le Pain Francais, Condecco and going to all other places I recognise. Think I feel it more because she’s also, like me, not living there, therefore enjoying the novelty of coming home to what you know and miss.
At the same time, I am so sure of my choice to live in Ghana. The kind of happiness that is felt here cannot (for me) be found anywhere else. I don’t see myself upping and leaving, but I’m missing my dose of Sweden, it’s been too long! The cleanliness that shocks you when you’re coming from London, the fresh air - especially after a rainy day, the green trees, grass and bushes all around you everywhere, taking 91:an or 11:an in to Brunnsparken to meet some friends or walking to Jarntorget to go for a fika somewhere in Haga or Linne, I miss it all!
I do realise what I’ve described sounds like a very sunny Gothenburg, but I miss winter too. Three days ago, Virgo, SQB and I caught a program on the building of the Ice Hotel up north in Sweden, and even that looked appealing. I described to them the beauty of waking up after a night of snow, (on the days when I had a dog to walk), and being the first one out to see a beautiful, white, untouched canvas of snow.
The crispy fresh air that freezes your face but leaves you feeling rosy and refreshed, startles but wakes your senses. Even rainy days serve their purpose. Yes Gothenburg may be grey and unappealing, with leaves covering the pavements, mashed and smeared in mud, but what better time than a rainy day to cosy up at a cafe or a friend’s place for a cup of yogi tea and blueberry or apple pie?
Mmm, it’s time to start checking the travel sites, before the longing takes over completely.
By hook or by crook, I have to visit my Gothenburg soon.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Thursday, 10 April 2008
Life
After another hectic day of car troubles (don't get me started) and work, I spent the evening at a funeral service for my dear friend's grandfather. The service was nice, the choir sang beautifully, but I felt out of place, as is often the case at Ghanaian funerals. Since funerals are social occasions like any other, you end up going to many funerals of deceased persons you don't really know. Well, I am here for my friend I thought, that counts for something.
Just then, her mother turned round and I saw her face. The pain and grief of a daughter who has lost her father was so evident on her face it startled me. Suddenly the sorrow of a life coming to an end became so real to me.
Often, when friends or relatives have babies we all gush, I can't believe the x weeks/months ago he/she wasn't alive! It is with disbelief that we marvel over the miracle of life. In those moments, when admiring a beautiful baby, we're amazed and grateful at the mystery of how we come to be human beings, the joy overshadows any wish of delving into what lies behind this mystery.
Tonight, in my friend's mother's face, I saw the other side of the mystery of life. Life can be snatched from us or our loved ones at any moment, often when we least expect it, leaving us in mourning and shock over our loved one who has left us. In those moments the question we ask the most is WHY? As we enter the world we gratefully accept life, without asking any questions, but as we leave we demand answers.
Perhaps it's time to accept that just as we receive new life into the world, we also need to accept that life will be taken away at any time. Let's make our loved ones aware of how much we care for them so that when that moment comes, we'll know that just as they arrived into this world in a welcoming embrace, they'll leave out of the wallows of warmth and affection.
Just then, her mother turned round and I saw her face. The pain and grief of a daughter who has lost her father was so evident on her face it startled me. Suddenly the sorrow of a life coming to an end became so real to me.
Often, when friends or relatives have babies we all gush, I can't believe the x weeks/months ago he/she wasn't alive! It is with disbelief that we marvel over the miracle of life. In those moments, when admiring a beautiful baby, we're amazed and grateful at the mystery of how we come to be human beings, the joy overshadows any wish of delving into what lies behind this mystery.
Tonight, in my friend's mother's face, I saw the other side of the mystery of life. Life can be snatched from us or our loved ones at any moment, often when we least expect it, leaving us in mourning and shock over our loved one who has left us. In those moments the question we ask the most is WHY? As we enter the world we gratefully accept life, without asking any questions, but as we leave we demand answers.
Perhaps it's time to accept that just as we receive new life into the world, we also need to accept that life will be taken away at any time. Let's make our loved ones aware of how much we care for them so that when that moment comes, we'll know that just as they arrived into this world in a welcoming embrace, they'll leave out of the wallows of warmth and affection.
Wednesday, 9 April 2008
Food for thought.
Mmmm, It's almost time...
Food is a funny thing. Generally, you would expect people in countries to eat what naturally fits in with their country's climate, e.g. hot, heavy foods to keep you warm on a cold winter's day in the North, or a fresh crisp salad in the hot Mediterranean sun.
Ghanaians seem to breach all those rules. You'd expect us to eat salads of avocado, lettuce, tomatoes, beans etc. or be living of smoothies and fruit salads, with all the beautiful, "exotic" fruits and vegetables that grow naturally here. Instead, the most common dishes are hot, heavy, often oily soups. There's light soup, palmnut soup, groundnut soup, green green, and if not soup, an equally hot, heavy stew: okro stew, garden egg stew, kontomire, red red. Each of these dishes, made from a tomato and onion base, usually cooked in palmnut oil. And are these soups & sauces served with a light array of vegetables? Nooooo! Rather an equally heavy ball of starch in the form of fufu, banku, kenke, omotuo, tz, or alternatively gari!
It is a wonder that we get anything done after feasting on our national dishes! Even the Spanish have realised that a siesta is in order after a good meal in the heat, and yet we, after eating one of our local dishes, struggle to keep our eyes open at work, when our productivity has decreased by 80% and count the minutes til the working day is over.
When Smoothys opened in Osu, I thought the tide may be turning towards a lighter, healthier way of eating, but after meeting the proper Kenyan there one Sunday evening, I realised, smoothies will not be considered a snack option in the place of a burger or Kofi Brokeman (roasted plantain), but rather a dessert for couples after a lovely plate of hot, heavy, starchy food!
Food is a funny thing. Generally, you would expect people in countries to eat what naturally fits in with their country's climate, e.g. hot, heavy foods to keep you warm on a cold winter's day in the North, or a fresh crisp salad in the hot Mediterranean sun.
Ghanaians seem to breach all those rules. You'd expect us to eat salads of avocado, lettuce, tomatoes, beans etc. or be living of smoothies and fruit salads, with all the beautiful, "exotic" fruits and vegetables that grow naturally here. Instead, the most common dishes are hot, heavy, often oily soups. There's light soup, palmnut soup, groundnut soup, green green, and if not soup, an equally hot, heavy stew: okro stew, garden egg stew, kontomire, red red. Each of these dishes, made from a tomato and onion base, usually cooked in palmnut oil. And are these soups & sauces served with a light array of vegetables? Nooooo! Rather an equally heavy ball of starch in the form of fufu, banku, kenke, omotuo, tz, or alternatively gari!
It is a wonder that we get anything done after feasting on our national dishes! Even the Spanish have realised that a siesta is in order after a good meal in the heat, and yet we, after eating one of our local dishes, struggle to keep our eyes open at work, when our productivity has decreased by 80% and count the minutes til the working day is over.
When Smoothys opened in Osu, I thought the tide may be turning towards a lighter, healthier way of eating, but after meeting the proper Kenyan there one Sunday evening, I realised, smoothies will not be considered a snack option in the place of a burger or Kofi Brokeman (roasted plantain), but rather a dessert for couples after a lovely plate of hot, heavy, starchy food!
Beautiful photos
The poet stumbled across a blog belonging to a talented photographer. Funnily enough, it's the guy who took our work pictures. I love the photos on January 28 and May 16 (a simple scroll down the blogg will take you there). Seeing his pictures makes me miss my USB cable even more, where could it be?
Now, back to work!
Now, back to work!
Tuesday, 8 April 2008
This week
Suddenly the days are flying by so quickly, before you know it, it's time to go home. Don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. At least the social calendar is filling up quite nicely for the week, sushi with Dirty and Miami tomorrow, funeral on Thursday (well that's not fun), sushi with the poetress ; ) on Friday (see what happens when you wait several months before eating sushi, end up wanting it every day of the week), a wedding and a 70th birthday party on Saturday (both distant relatives) and possibly a lunch on Sunday in Tema (but hopefully Sunday will end up being as relaxing as it should be).
Now, off to see Virgo before we go to the gym to shape up for bikini season. That expression has no relevance here as every season really is bikini season. Went to the gym yesterday morning and did those awfully effective lower ab exercises. Will hopefully have gone from this
to a sixpack in no time!
Now, off to see Virgo before we go to the gym to shape up for bikini season. That expression has no relevance here as every season really is bikini season. Went to the gym yesterday morning and did those awfully effective lower ab exercises. Will hopefully have gone from this
to a sixpack in no time!
Quote of the Day.
Vad är det för fel på italienarna?
De har världens godaste glass, världens bästa bilar, fotbollsliga, mode, design, viner, mat. De har världens vackraste språk och en imponerande historia som befolkas av idel genier och konstnärer. Ändå har de röstat fram pajasen till premiärminister två gånger.
Translation:
"What's wrong with the Italians?
They have the nicest ice cream in the world, the best cars, football league, fashion, design, wines, food. They have the most beautiful language in the world, an impressive history filled with geniuses and artists. And they've still managed to elect that joker as Prime Minister twice?"
Is Alexandra losing faith in humanity as Silvio Berlusconi continues his campaign?
De har världens godaste glass, världens bästa bilar, fotbollsliga, mode, design, viner, mat. De har världens vackraste språk och en imponerande historia som befolkas av idel genier och konstnärer. Ändå har de röstat fram pajasen till premiärminister två gånger.
Translation:
"What's wrong with the Italians?
They have the nicest ice cream in the world, the best cars, football league, fashion, design, wines, food. They have the most beautiful language in the world, an impressive history filled with geniuses and artists. And they've still managed to elect that joker as Prime Minister twice?"
Is Alexandra losing faith in humanity as Silvio Berlusconi continues his campaign?
Monday, 7 April 2008
Nobody puts baby in a corner
When we got back from court this morning, the poet and I, from afar, thought somebody had stolen my parking spot (parking spots are very precious at our premises, but that's a whole other story), but as we got closer we realised the car was parked in the spot next to mine. However, when we got out of the car, we were in for a new shock. At the back seat of the car was a baby (my guess would be that it was a child of 9-10 months), sitting in her car seat. Luckily, to my slight relief we saw that all four windows were well rolled down, but feeling the intense heat ourselves and seeing the many beads of sweat on her forehead, although snoozing away, she was clearly getting warmer by the minute.
A million thoughts went through my (and the poet's) mind, some voiced, some not. What kind of parent can leave their child in this heat, no wait, what kind of parent leaves their baby unattended in a car park?! My motherly instinct was urging me to pick up the child, take her to the office, leave a note for the mother or father directing to our office, but at least ensuring she'd get away from the boiling heat of a car in the equatorial mid-day sun. As we were walking away I told the poet that we ought to at least inform the car park security guard that there was a baby in the car so that he'd keep an eye on her, but as we turned to take a last look at her, the poet noticed a man had gone to sit in the car, giving proof to what the poet had earlier said "this child has been left with someone other than her parents".
Our guess is that the driver (or whoever he was), after being left to tend and care for the child, had probably felt nature calling and decided that there was no risk in leaving her for several minutes while taking a quick whizz round the corner. He could easily have come back to find an empty car. I may have snatched the baby with good intentions, and leaving a note, but someone else could have taken her forever. How many seconds do you need to snatch a child?
For so many reasons, the image of the little baby girl, soundly sleeping, in a car with its windows rolled down, with sweat rolling down her tiny forehead, will stay with me for long. I wonder how her parents would react if they knew how she had been left, or do they practice the same behaviour? We'll never know.
The many different scenarios to what could have happened to her are still playing in my head. For all we know, even the man we saw enter the car may have been a complete stranger, after all the windows were down so anyone could unlock the car.
I urge any parent who reads this to give your child(ren) a big hug and show them all the unconditional love they deserve, and to all us childless people, let's make a silent promise to never ever put our children at such unnecessary risk, making them innocent victims of our foolish mistakes.
A million thoughts went through my (and the poet's) mind, some voiced, some not. What kind of parent can leave their child in this heat, no wait, what kind of parent leaves their baby unattended in a car park?! My motherly instinct was urging me to pick up the child, take her to the office, leave a note for the mother or father directing to our office, but at least ensuring she'd get away from the boiling heat of a car in the equatorial mid-day sun. As we were walking away I told the poet that we ought to at least inform the car park security guard that there was a baby in the car so that he'd keep an eye on her, but as we turned to take a last look at her, the poet noticed a man had gone to sit in the car, giving proof to what the poet had earlier said "this child has been left with someone other than her parents".
Our guess is that the driver (or whoever he was), after being left to tend and care for the child, had probably felt nature calling and decided that there was no risk in leaving her for several minutes while taking a quick whizz round the corner. He could easily have come back to find an empty car. I may have snatched the baby with good intentions, and leaving a note, but someone else could have taken her forever. How many seconds do you need to snatch a child?
For so many reasons, the image of the little baby girl, soundly sleeping, in a car with its windows rolled down, with sweat rolling down her tiny forehead, will stay with me for long. I wonder how her parents would react if they knew how she had been left, or do they practice the same behaviour? We'll never know.
The many different scenarios to what could have happened to her are still playing in my head. For all we know, even the man we saw enter the car may have been a complete stranger, after all the windows were down so anyone could unlock the car.
I urge any parent who reads this to give your child(ren) a big hug and show them all the unconditional love they deserve, and to all us childless people, let's make a silent promise to never ever put our children at such unnecessary risk, making them innocent victims of our foolish mistakes.
Suffering in the Land
Saturday night and Sunday can be summed up in a few words:
bed, toilet, shower, bed, toilet, shower, no internet, shivering, boiling, freezing, more bed.
I blame the tiny dollop of ice cream on my pudding the day before for causing my gut-wrenching sufferings. Well, at least I had a "restful" weekend, didn't leave the house all weekend, finally got my hair done. What made yesterday a bit too painful was not having any internet connection, but it was only one day and Virgo came over to see me anyway. It seems in my most sorry state I had ordered him to come and he knew better than to disobey.
Managed to go to the gym this morning so I am definitely back in action, albeit a few grams lighter and with a tidier head of hair! ;)
bed, toilet, shower, bed, toilet, shower, no internet, shivering, boiling, freezing, more bed.
I blame the tiny dollop of ice cream on my pudding the day before for causing my gut-wrenching sufferings. Well, at least I had a "restful" weekend, didn't leave the house all weekend, finally got my hair done. What made yesterday a bit too painful was not having any internet connection, but it was only one day and Virgo came over to see me anyway. It seems in my most sorry state I had ordered him to come and he knew better than to disobey.
Managed to go to the gym this morning so I am definitely back in action, albeit a few grams lighter and with a tidier head of hair! ;)
Saturday, 5 April 2008
ABBA!
OK, so if you didn’t get it from the end of the last post, this is going to be all about ABBA. If you don’t love ABBA, please stop reading now, you’ll just be wasting your time.
Every Friday I spend the morning at a client’s office in Tema. For some reason they are never able to connect my laptop to the internet, and whatever work I am given, I usually finish within one of the four hours I sit there. So yesterday, after doing the client’s work, then office work, as I was about to take care of my private work, I remembered I had my MP3 player with me, turned it on and felt the power of music, as in top quality, hairs raising, goose bumps creating music.
This only happens when you’re listening to either a song that takes you back to a particular event or when listening la crème de la crème – in this case: ABBA.
Don’t be confused, I am not an ABBA novice, ask my parents, they’ll tell you I have been a fan since I could stand on my own feet.
But as I was listening through earphones, a rare occurrence for me, the sound of ABBA hit me even harder, deeper than usual.
‘Our Last Summer’, which H really introduced me to and is now one of my favourites, displays such a beautiful melancholy of remembrance, particularly at 02:49 (come on, dig out the song so you know what I’m talking about). We’re meant to be wowed by the electric guitar solo but the piano steals the show and sets the tone of reminiscing. The drums at 03:20, Aw!
The lovely piano plonking at 01:37. What can be said about the almost comic “and your name is...Harry!” in the last verse? Each instrument, note, word, so intelligently thought through and put together to create magnificence.
In ‘Fernando’, H calls me sentimental, but my favourite line is the beautiful “I can see it in your eyes how proud you were to fight for freedom in this land”. Once again (as always) Bjorn and Benny display excellence by selecting and coordinating melodies and instruments to characterise each aspect of the song.
The pan-flutes, the instrument of South America, ensuring that before we hear a word of the song we know which continent to link it to. The drumming, resembling drumming your way into a battle, of course reminding us of Fernando’s battles. The chorus links to Sweden in a way only a Swede would know by jumping from the South American influence of the verse to classic dansband’s (Swedish country/folk music) beat that takes our minds to Sven-Ingvars and Vikingarna.
When listening to ABBA I feel I never need to know any other music.
Agneta and Frida personalise each song with Swedish pronunciation and enunciation as only those with English as a second language could. ("it was the age [aich] of no regret” in ‘Our Last Summer’).
E G-A made me love ‘the Name of the Game’. Once you start loving it, there’s no going back. The great base I’d expect to hear in a good hiphop song or at a crucial point of excitement in a movie, the “schu, schu, schu, schu” beat of the drums throughout the verse, the beautiful harmony of Agneta and Frida’s voices in the chorus, the “du, du, du, du” whilst Frida sings “and you make me feel...”, the desperation of “if I said I care for you, would you feel the same way too”, the background “one smile and the sound of your voice” while the chorus is being sung. The saxophone behind “ would you laugh at me" that culminates at 03:31 to 03:46 (of the cut version, actually prefer the longer one but don’t have it on my MP3, only on the original LP). So many segments to one song, my words come nowhere near describing the magnitude of it!
Geniuses! Bjorn and Benny, where did this talent that made you musicians extraordinaire come from?!
We fans really can only say thank YOU for the music, what would the world be like without the music of ABBA?
Every Friday I spend the morning at a client’s office in Tema. For some reason they are never able to connect my laptop to the internet, and whatever work I am given, I usually finish within one of the four hours I sit there. So yesterday, after doing the client’s work, then office work, as I was about to take care of my private work, I remembered I had my MP3 player with me, turned it on and felt the power of music, as in top quality, hairs raising, goose bumps creating music.
This only happens when you’re listening to either a song that takes you back to a particular event or when listening la crème de la crème – in this case: ABBA.
Don’t be confused, I am not an ABBA novice, ask my parents, they’ll tell you I have been a fan since I could stand on my own feet.
But as I was listening through earphones, a rare occurrence for me, the sound of ABBA hit me even harder, deeper than usual.
‘Our Last Summer’, which H really introduced me to and is now one of my favourites, displays such a beautiful melancholy of remembrance, particularly at 02:49 (come on, dig out the song so you know what I’m talking about). We’re meant to be wowed by the electric guitar solo but the piano steals the show and sets the tone of reminiscing. The drums at 03:20, Aw!
The lovely piano plonking at 01:37. What can be said about the almost comic “and your name is...Harry!” in the last verse? Each instrument, note, word, so intelligently thought through and put together to create magnificence.
In ‘Fernando’, H calls me sentimental, but my favourite line is the beautiful “I can see it in your eyes how proud you were to fight for freedom in this land”. Once again (as always) Bjorn and Benny display excellence by selecting and coordinating melodies and instruments to characterise each aspect of the song.
The pan-flutes, the instrument of South America, ensuring that before we hear a word of the song we know which continent to link it to. The drumming, resembling drumming your way into a battle, of course reminding us of Fernando’s battles. The chorus links to Sweden in a way only a Swede would know by jumping from the South American influence of the verse to classic dansband’s (Swedish country/folk music) beat that takes our minds to Sven-Ingvars and Vikingarna.
When listening to ABBA I feel I never need to know any other music.
Agneta and Frida personalise each song with Swedish pronunciation and enunciation as only those with English as a second language could. ("it was the age [aich] of no regret” in ‘Our Last Summer’).
E G-A made me love ‘the Name of the Game’. Once you start loving it, there’s no going back. The great base I’d expect to hear in a good hiphop song or at a crucial point of excitement in a movie, the “schu, schu, schu, schu” beat of the drums throughout the verse, the beautiful harmony of Agneta and Frida’s voices in the chorus, the “du, du, du, du” whilst Frida sings “and you make me feel...”, the desperation of “if I said I care for you, would you feel the same way too”, the background “one smile and the sound of your voice” while the chorus is being sung. The saxophone behind “ would you laugh at me" that culminates at 03:31 to 03:46 (of the cut version, actually prefer the longer one but don’t have it on my MP3, only on the original LP). So many segments to one song, my words come nowhere near describing the magnitude of it!
Geniuses! Bjorn and Benny, where did this talent that made you musicians extraordinaire come from?!
We fans really can only say thank YOU for the music, what would the world be like without the music of ABBA?
Another rainy afternoon
Today happens to be one of those wonderful days when I woke up and realised I had nothing planned at all. Took it really easy in the morning and just when I thought that I really should get out and do something, it started drizzling. My dear mum got back from Accra with a parcel for me from the London Dove, with a dress, shoes and some magazines. It really is the simple things in life that make me happy!
As lunch time hunger pangs set in, I thought, English weather calls for English food, and made a bread and butter pudding (tasted a bit different because I only had brown bread, but at least I can say I opted for a healthier alternative) ;)
Virgo is busy all day today with work matters, don't really feel like driving all the way to Accra so I think I'm just going to stay in and read my new magazines, then look for my USB cable. Where could it have escaped to?
Apparently Beyonce and JayZ got married yesterday. If it's true, they did it exactly as I would want to (if i were to ever get married). Quiet, only the closest friends and family, the rest would find out when it was all over and done with.
Actually, before I drift off even further, I think I'm going to continue writing a post about the Absolutely Best Band of All!
As lunch time hunger pangs set in, I thought, English weather calls for English food, and made a bread and butter pudding (tasted a bit different because I only had brown bread, but at least I can say I opted for a healthier alternative) ;)
Virgo is busy all day today with work matters, don't really feel like driving all the way to Accra so I think I'm just going to stay in and read my new magazines, then look for my USB cable. Where could it have escaped to?
Apparently Beyonce and JayZ got married yesterday. If it's true, they did it exactly as I would want to (if i were to ever get married). Quiet, only the closest friends and family, the rest would find out when it was all over and done with.
Actually, before I drift off even further, I think I'm going to continue writing a post about the Absolutely Best Band of All!
Fourth of the fourth
Yesterday's post never came up due to internet problems. Here it is:
Today is a day of celebration and remembrance for many. Happy birthday to the lovely Maya Angelou who turns eighty today, hope there are many more years (and books to come). My friend H also has her birthday today, haven't spoken to her in ages but sent her a text. It seems there are many birthdays out there that fall on the 4/4.
Today is also forty years since Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered. The article mentions that for years Maya didn't celebrate her birthday because her dear friend died on it.
What a wonderful legacy Martin Luther King Jr. left behind him, do you think he could imagine that already, in less than half a century from when blacks and whites could not sit together on a bus, we are on the brink of (possibly) having a Black president of the United States?
Today would also have been Heath Ledger's 29th birthday. Do you think he imagined in mid-January that he would not make it here?
And there sits a two year old girl who'll sadly not remember much of her father when she grows up. Hopefully watching his movies, that showcase his wonderful talent will help keep that memory alive.
Today I also took a step towards the end of a short era in my life. The letter was handed over, now time will tell what the future holds.
Spent the evening at H Lodge where auntie M had a little get together to celebrate her latest purchase. Just home now, feeling very tired. After shivering so much at work to the point where I earned the nickname Benazir Bhutto (how could anyone be offended by that?), because of how I wrapped myself in my pashmina, and feeling as exhausted as I do now, I just hope and wish that it is not malaria. Will see how I feel after a good night's sleep tomorrow. I say a good night's sleep but unfortunately the frog/cricket sing-along has already begun.
Today is a day of celebration and remembrance for many. Happy birthday to the lovely Maya Angelou who turns eighty today, hope there are many more years (and books to come). My friend H also has her birthday today, haven't spoken to her in ages but sent her a text. It seems there are many birthdays out there that fall on the 4/4.
Today is also forty years since Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered. The article mentions that for years Maya didn't celebrate her birthday because her dear friend died on it.
What a wonderful legacy Martin Luther King Jr. left behind him, do you think he could imagine that already, in less than half a century from when blacks and whites could not sit together on a bus, we are on the brink of (possibly) having a Black president of the United States?
Today would also have been Heath Ledger's 29th birthday. Do you think he imagined in mid-January that he would not make it here?
And there sits a two year old girl who'll sadly not remember much of her father when she grows up. Hopefully watching his movies, that showcase his wonderful talent will help keep that memory alive.
Today I also took a step towards the end of a short era in my life. The letter was handed over, now time will tell what the future holds.
Spent the evening at H Lodge where auntie M had a little get together to celebrate her latest purchase. Just home now, feeling very tired. After shivering so much at work to the point where I earned the nickname Benazir Bhutto (how could anyone be offended by that?), because of how I wrapped myself in my pashmina, and feeling as exhausted as I do now, I just hope and wish that it is not malaria. Will see how I feel after a good night's sleep tomorrow. I say a good night's sleep but unfortunately the frog/cricket sing-along has already begun.
Thursday, 3 April 2008
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.
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.
Hectic!
Gosh what a busy day! Don't even know what I've been doing but have been busy all day. (excuse all typos, have no time to check). Had to leave the lovely Satine, (yes, I named a car I only drove for 1 1/2 day) and have realised, the only way to drive is in an Infinity. Back with good old Roger now (that's my car, not a bit on the side).
At least got myself a good laugh this morning as I was buying juice from the kiosk by our office.
One taxi driver to another (sleepy looking one)at the taxi station (fancy name for a row of taxis):
"Chale - you no sleep last night?"
"hm...I ate some banku this morning"
This conversation was witnessed at 08:57a.m. I can only imagine when in the morning this banku was eaten (and dread to wonder if he'll fall asleep at the wheel during the day)!
Must review an agreement now, before Miami comes to meet me at work in 13 minutes, somehow I don't think I'll be ready by then. Going to Twist from there and I'll probably pass Virgo's after that before I get home to write a proper post.
At least got myself a good laugh this morning as I was buying juice from the kiosk by our office.
One taxi driver to another (sleepy looking one)at the taxi station (fancy name for a row of taxis):
"Chale - you no sleep last night?"
"hm...I ate some banku this morning"
This conversation was witnessed at 08:57a.m. I can only imagine when in the morning this banku was eaten (and dread to wonder if he'll fall asleep at the wheel during the day)!
Must review an agreement now, before Miami comes to meet me at work in 13 minutes, somehow I don't think I'll be ready by then. Going to Twist from there and I'll probably pass Virgo's after that before I get home to write a proper post.
Wednesday, 2 April 2008
Changing nation
Ghana is a nation in the process of change. It is everywhere. I feel it in the air. As the lightning and thunder crash against the office window, nature is clearly telling us that the hot unbearable season is gone and rainy season is marching in.
As I type away in the office, wondering when I will find the time to draft to documents that will mean a change in my professional life, the other guys in the office are excitedly discussing the oil we've recently found and how it will change Ghana for good. I hear America, Venezuela and Norway being mentioned. Could we be the new Norway? I doubt it, but who knows, contracts have been handed to the Norwegians, hopefully they'll let Ghana benefit from it.
Darkness has struck a few minutes earlier than usual, in fact with the thunder beating against my window, the ice-cold AC in the office and the pitch black darkness outside us that prevents me from enjoying my usual ocean view, it resembles a European November day when you wake up in shock to realise that autumn is long gone and we're well in winter.
This is the year of change. I feel it in every bone of my body. There's a "fjarilar i magen" (butterflies in my tummy) feeling as I feel, no, know that many of us will be in very different places at the end of the year. How scarily exciting!
Well, it's time for the constant daydreamer to return to work, going to make myself a cup of tea (or milo?), enjoy nature's roar and continue drafting my agreements.
As I type away in the office, wondering when I will find the time to draft to documents that will mean a change in my professional life, the other guys in the office are excitedly discussing the oil we've recently found and how it will change Ghana for good. I hear America, Venezuela and Norway being mentioned. Could we be the new Norway? I doubt it, but who knows, contracts have been handed to the Norwegians, hopefully they'll let Ghana benefit from it.
Darkness has struck a few minutes earlier than usual, in fact with the thunder beating against my window, the ice-cold AC in the office and the pitch black darkness outside us that prevents me from enjoying my usual ocean view, it resembles a European November day when you wake up in shock to realise that autumn is long gone and we're well in winter.
This is the year of change. I feel it in every bone of my body. There's a "fjarilar i magen" (butterflies in my tummy) feeling as I feel, no, know that many of us will be in very different places at the end of the year. How scarily exciting!
Well, it's time for the constant daydreamer to return to work, going to make myself a cup of tea (or milo?), enjoy nature's roar and continue drafting my agreements.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
April, April!
April,april din dumma sill, jag kan lura dig vart jag vill! (loosely: "april, april you silly fish, I can trick you to anywhere I wish). This we used to laughingly squeal to each other after a really good prank on April Fool's day. Luckily, April Fool's day seems to be one of those days that are still celebrated, even in adult age. Google had their prank this morning about sending emails from the past and on Atlantis radio they spoke of Kofi Annan running as an independent candidate for Ghana's presidency (I can only assume that's an April Fool's joke, they didn't actually confirm whether it was or not). It seems we adults can have as much fun with April Fool's and sometimes even take it to a level that can't be reached by children.
As a matter of fact, M told me about an outright evil prank that she and D played on their friends one year, after the same thing had been done to M the year before by some other friends. They sent letters to their Ghanaian friends in Gothenburg offering them an extremely lucrative post with the UN, but all documentation would have to be sent in that day and April 1 (the day on which the friends received the letter, of course) was the last day for calling to confirm acceptance of the job. M gave out her number but purposely did not answer, even as the phone rang frenetically all day. I can only imagine how all their friends were running up and down to get all their documentation in order, too rushed to even wonder how this job was offered to them without them even having to apply for it. They were probably too busy dreaming of the perks involved, a wonderful salary, free trips to Ghana, children's schooling paid for, all their prayers would have been answered at once.
M doesn't have to imagine what they went through, she had been through the same thing a year before when SIDA (Swedish International Development Association) offered her the job of her dreams, a job in her profession and (I believe), working in Ghana, with regular trips back to Sweden, the only trouble being, you guessed it, all the documents would have to be sent by April 1, after a successful phone call was made to accept the appointment.
And yet it seems being burnt has in no way made M sympathetic to April Fool's victims, rather it seems misery really does love company. This Friday, M, who in everyday life is the most kind-hearted, angelic person, came up with an even more evil idea: Sending letters to random people in Ghana on April 1, supposedly from the American Embassy, explaining that they had won in the Green Card Lottery AND a free trip to the US. Only problem - the trip would of course be scheduled for, yes you guessed it, April 1, and to get their green cards and make the flight, they must report at the American Embassy at 10 a.m. of April 1, with their passports, documents and packing for the trip to America. As M and I roared with laughter at the sight of a long queue of people outside the gates of the Embassy with suitcases and all, we realised our plan would fail mainly because: how would we get names and addresses of random persons to send the letters to at such short notice, and imagine the state of emergency that would occur at the embassy when rows and rows of Ghanaians were found all ready to take of to the Land of Opportunity!
As I imagined them lining up outside the embassy, I also realised the offer of a green card would be so high up on the list of wishes for many Ghanaians, many of them would in the excitement resign from their current jobs, before even setting foot on the plane to America or receiving their Green Cards, yes, the offer would be so much higher than even the jobs offered to M and D's friends on that April 1st several years ago. April Fool's Day may be a free-for-all, play-a-prank-on-anybody day, but there is an extent to how far you play with people's hearts.
Happy April Fool's day, the pranksters are all out there, make sure you're one of them rather than the April Fool.
As a matter of fact, M told me about an outright evil prank that she and D played on their friends one year, after the same thing had been done to M the year before by some other friends. They sent letters to their Ghanaian friends in Gothenburg offering them an extremely lucrative post with the UN, but all documentation would have to be sent in that day and April 1 (the day on which the friends received the letter, of course) was the last day for calling to confirm acceptance of the job. M gave out her number but purposely did not answer, even as the phone rang frenetically all day. I can only imagine how all their friends were running up and down to get all their documentation in order, too rushed to even wonder how this job was offered to them without them even having to apply for it. They were probably too busy dreaming of the perks involved, a wonderful salary, free trips to Ghana, children's schooling paid for, all their prayers would have been answered at once.
M doesn't have to imagine what they went through, she had been through the same thing a year before when SIDA (Swedish International Development Association) offered her the job of her dreams, a job in her profession and (I believe), working in Ghana, with regular trips back to Sweden, the only trouble being, you guessed it, all the documents would have to be sent by April 1, after a successful phone call was made to accept the appointment.
And yet it seems being burnt has in no way made M sympathetic to April Fool's victims, rather it seems misery really does love company. This Friday, M, who in everyday life is the most kind-hearted, angelic person, came up with an even more evil idea: Sending letters to random people in Ghana on April 1, supposedly from the American Embassy, explaining that they had won in the Green Card Lottery AND a free trip to the US. Only problem - the trip would of course be scheduled for, yes you guessed it, April 1, and to get their green cards and make the flight, they must report at the American Embassy at 10 a.m. of April 1, with their passports, documents and packing for the trip to America. As M and I roared with laughter at the sight of a long queue of people outside the gates of the Embassy with suitcases and all, we realised our plan would fail mainly because: how would we get names and addresses of random persons to send the letters to at such short notice, and imagine the state of emergency that would occur at the embassy when rows and rows of Ghanaians were found all ready to take of to the Land of Opportunity!
As I imagined them lining up outside the embassy, I also realised the offer of a green card would be so high up on the list of wishes for many Ghanaians, many of them would in the excitement resign from their current jobs, before even setting foot on the plane to America or receiving their Green Cards, yes, the offer would be so much higher than even the jobs offered to M and D's friends on that April 1st several years ago. April Fool's Day may be a free-for-all, play-a-prank-on-anybody day, but there is an extent to how far you play with people's hearts.
Happy April Fool's day, the pranksters are all out there, make sure you're one of them rather than the April Fool.
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