Where will your travels take you?

On an unseasonably warm day in February, I board a bus.

I am going on a journey.

My breakfast is still swimming around my throat in protest at how fast I've gobbled it down, threatening regurgitation. I am pressed for time, yet I can still pause to acknowledge porridge oats as the one food I can make and eat within seven minutes. I have timed it and it is a remarkable feat, because usually, I can nurse my food till the cocks come home to roost. When I was fourteen and about to go to boarding school, one of my mother's valid concerns was that I'd be the soul left on her lonesome at the dining hall while everybody finished their food and left for their next class.

The sun is out and I am appreciating this rare opportunity to wear just a light blazer as opposed to the warm winter jacket that has been attached to my body for the last few months.

A cacophony of sounds jostle for dominance in the bus. Noisy children ask tedious questions of their parents, whilst they in turn respond with the patience that only a parent can muster. There is loud chatter and general bonhomie which only the appearance of the sun can bestow on the good people of the United Kingdom. That it is also a Saturday adds a certain gaiety to proceedings.

I go to the upper deck and I spot them immediately.

He is blond, with a face that looks like it is always on the verge of bursting into raucous laughter.She has skin the colour of rust, and an accent she later assures me is supposed to be Kenyan, as though she could tell my geography fails  me on various occasions.

'Do you think I have the face for it?' She asks without preamble as I take the seat behind them.

'For it?' I echo dumbly.

'For a perm cut. Come on, be honest with me.' She adds conspiratorially.

Before I know it, we are discussing hair types, cheekbones...and the luminous Lupita Nyiong'o for whom the world has gone loopy.

They are good friends, she tells me, turning to her mate, ruffling the blond hairs on his head, and he retaliates by telling her that a perm cut would not suit her prominent forehead. I am touched by their easy banter.  

With mock solemnity I assure her that life is so much better when you accept that yes, your forehead is prominent et alors? I point to the scar on mine, the one I can't hide especially now my hair is short, and we share a smile.

I am nearly at my stop so I say goodbye and go downstairs, feeling like my day can only get better thereon.

It does.

I am attending a travel writing workshop run by Peter Carty, an experienced writer whose travel features have graced numerous publications including The Guardian, Conde Nast Traveller, The Telegraph etc.

It's a full house, chatty with enthusiastic people from all walks of life, and it doesn't escape me that for all our differences, one thing unites us all in that moment: our passion for travel. During the ice-breaker session, I meet Georgina, born in Serbia, raised in Sydney and now living in London. Seated on my left is an English woman from Kent, whose transatlantic accent reveals on further probing, an early life spent in Nairobi. I want to tell her that the only Swahili I know is from playing 'Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?' as a child, but I don't think now is the time to outdoor my limited language skills. (I can say 'Stop, thief!' and 'Are you a detective?', just in case you're wondering.)

Through various conversations and writing assignments in the course of the day, I am taken on a food tour in Bologna, hiking up the Scottish Highlands, navigating local life in Colombia and back for a culinary tour de force in San Sebastian, amongst other exhilarating experiences brought piercingly alive through text.

The workshop is intense, packed with nuggets of information, and so easily whets my appetite for travel until I can almost feel the ants in my pants move down to give me itchy feet.

And so as the day ends, I am buzzing, thinking of passports, finances and travel destinations. But mostly, I am also thinking who will I talk to next? 

Because to travel is to allow yourself to experience a people, a place, an adventure.

Where will yours take you?

Travel Writing Workshop
www.travelwritingworkshop.co.uk

57 Words For Ghana Livin'

So you've heard about us Ghanaians. We are the lively, captivating bunch who light up the west coast of Africa. You've seen us banter with each other on various social media platforms and been entertained by some of the more dotty stuff. Your timelines occasionally flood with 'in country' jokes that everyone else is in on. Well, continuing the blog tradition of a Ghana-centric post on 6 March, here are 57 words for Ghana livin' and lovin'.

1) Akwaaba 

We bid welcome with this word that rolls pleasantly off the tongue. Although it is an Akan word, Akwaaba is that warm outstretched hand of Ghanaian hospitality which you'll see all over the country.  

2) Abeg (I beg)

Think 'Oh, please!' or 'Yeah, right!', and occasionally, 'Wow, impressive!' 

3) Ayekoo

This is a verbal pat on the back that means 'well done!'

4) Azonto

These days, your dance moves are seriously lacking if you haven't learnt how to pull off the arm-raising, hip-moving, knee-bending, leg-twisting dance that is Azonto.  

5) Bele Bele 

You've not met a more industrious hawker than one who changes their wares in response to supply and demand. Bele Bele is small-time hawking of just about anything that is hot right now. It is loyal to no one product or place and brings new meaning to bric-a-brac.

6) Bronya ade

During the festive season, peace and goodwill to all mankind won't suffice. You must also expect to be asked for bronya ade (Christmas gift) by just about anyone, including relatives, friends, the waakye seller, the tailor, the taxi driver, the mechanic (fitter), the hairdresser, the trader in the market...you get the point.

7) Boss

Yes, you could be talking about your superior at work. But because the word 'boss' is..well, such a boss, you could also use it in the context of 'buttering someone up', 'cajoling' or 'coaxing.' Think flattery, without too much insincerity.

8) Blow

As a student, academic excellence comes in the form of 'blowing your exams', which is simply to say you have passed with flying colours. Rather neatly, this takes us to the next word. Because in order to blow your exam, you must first be a...

9) Shark

Sharp-toothed as those marine fishes, and brimming with general brilliance. 

10) Bend down boutique ('Fose')

 Second hand clothing usually spread out on mats in the market, hence your needing to 'bend down' in order to make a selection.

11) Chacha

This is not the onomatopoeic dance of Latin-American origin, but gambling in local parlance. 

12) Check-Check

Bright, and, often, crudely designed kiosks from which a lucrative fast food business booms. Check-Check joints are local and lively, with regular customers who are enticed to this street food establishment because of convenience and affordable pricing. 

13) Chisel

If you are miserly, you are a tool. You are chisel!

14) Chopbox

This is a wooden square box for storing food or 'provisions' when a student goes to boarding school. It is a crucial accessory for survival if your school kitchen staff are notorious for serving what is meant to be food, but actually looks like an Unidentified Floating Object. 

15) Chop Money 

Before you brandish a weapon that hacks through paper, chop money is allowance that a spouse provides for the upkeep of the home. 

16) Chale wote

You've never seen a more ubiquitous footwear than chale wote. A Ga language word for flip-flops, chale wote revels in its duplicity as the one footwear all Ghanaians own, whilst also doubling as a local slang for 'Homie, let's go!'

17) Chew and Pour

While this phrase has been coined with characteristic humour, 'chew and pour' is the systematic learning by rote in order to regurgitate on paper as demanded by one school examination or other. The gamut of challenges Ghanaian students face in the education system contributes to the survivalist attitude to simply 'chew, pour, pass and forget' without appreciation for critical thinking and evaluation. 

18) Chrif/Chrife

Born again Christian. 

19) DadaBa

Someone who is perceived as spoiled and pampered because of their moneyed background. 'MamaBa' is used interchangeably with DadaBa if applicable.

20) Dropping

Local transportation in Ghana is peppered with inside jargon, and 'dropping' is one such. This simply means chartering an empty taxi to get you to your destination as opposed to sharing with other passengers at a station or bus stop. The crucial thing to remember about dropping is that price must be agreed beforehand as taxis in Ghana are not metered. So if you feel as though the taxi driver has plucked the fare from somewhere in the stratosphere, it's because he actually has. Ready, set, time to negotiate!

 
21) Dumsor

Did you know the Electricity Company of Ghana puts disco lights in the homes of Ghanaians? Load shedding is the official term for the rationing of national electricity supply, but 'dumsor' is the term that everyone calls it to signify the on-off nature of electricity supply. And there you have it, disco light electricity. Now you see it, now you don't.

22) Feeli Feeli

As in, 'Barack...honey, I saw you two feeli feeli! Flirting! Oh, and a selfie at a funeral?!' Are you thinking feeli feeli means 'with my own eyes', 'live', that sort of thing? You're absolutely on the right track.

23) Flex

Being showy with seeming understatement, or standoffish. Context is golden with this particular slang.  

24) Fix us

Give us a treat.

25) Flash

Not indecent exposure or anything even to do with lighting. Unless you count lighting up the screen of someone's mobile phone with the briefest of flash to signify 'you called', which, in this case, is totally what it's about. In Ghana, you will hear people say they only have 'flashing units' on their mobile phones. 

26) Galamsey

Ghana's rich mineral wealth is well-known. Unfortunately, so is the process of illegal mining known as Galamsey.

27) Guarantee

You know those shoes with soles so high they put you on another platform altogether? We call them 'guarantee.' I don't know why either.

28) Homechow

The stuff of good home cooking that ministers straight to the soul. Can I get an amen?

29) Hiplife

A genre of Ghanaian music that is a fusion of highlife and hiphop, with a bit of dancehall and reggae in the mix. Often recorded in local languages, most popularly in Akan, hiplife has arrived to titillate your tympanic membrane and give rhythm to your dancing feet. Enjoy.

30) Item 13

Not a wordy amendment to the Constitution of Ghana or any such highbrow documentation. Item 13 is refreshment, and your party or gathering better have plenty for all attendees to eat. 

31) Kayayei

A Ga word that describes young females who ply a trade in major markets as porters, carrying goods for a negotiated fee.

32) Knocking

When a dating couple have made the decision to marry, the man's family uses the all-important 'Knocking' ceremony to formally inform the woman's family of his intention to marry her. The term 'knocking' comes from the Ghanaian tradition of knocking on someone's door before entering their premises as a visitor.

33) Koti

Is a slang for police officers, whether they are on the beat in the sweltering heat, or at the charge office waiting  to give you an unforgettable 'counter back' experience.

34) Kyibom

There was a time when your evening meal didn't digest until you had taken a walk to the nearest kyibom stand and made an order. Kyibom is omelette, but enterprising sellers have expanded their offers to include all manner of hot pastries and drinks. Crucially, no kyibom seller worth their eggs sets up stall in the morning, because trust me, kyibom is a roaring joint for the nighttime in much the same way kelewele brings life to a dull evening. 

35) Mate

They are not your chummy buddies with whom you break bread. Mate is the savvy, no-nonsense right-hand man who monitors passenger pick-up and drop-off, and collects fares on the trotro. 

36) Our Day

Children in primary school celebrate 'Our Day' on the last day of term, bringing in food and drinks to share with their friends. However, it is also very possible that the jollof rice, biscuits, chicken, cake and whatnot that mother has slaved over will end up in carrier bags which a random teacher has brought especially for looting on this day of food and feasting. Our day? You bet.

37) Oyiwa

This must be delivered with the righteous gloating of someone who predicted a particular outcome and was roundly ignored. Because oyiwa means 'I told you so!'

38) Obroni

Technically, obroni means white person. But if your complexion is approaching anywhere that society at any point in time may consider 'fair', then you too are 'obroni.' 

39) Padi

Friend. Buddy.

40) Papa

You could be talking about any one of the following - Father (Papa), stressing the effect of something or someone (This annoys me papa!) or any object that can be used as a hand fan - and the word 'papa' becomes handy. All it takes is context and intonation. Some words are just born versatile.

41) Phobia

In Ghana when you say 'Phobia', you're really talking about one of the country's biggest football club sides, Accra Hearts of Oak, whose popular nickname can be traced back to the sixties when their prowess on the field put 'Hearts' fear in opponents. A fiery rivalry with Kumasi Asante Kotoko has kept generations hooked on their football antics, and to yell 'Phobia' is to stretch it till the letter 'O' begs for release. Phooobia!

42) Ponding

Oh, you will have memorable birthdays with this one. The tradition in school is to be 'ponded' by your friends on your birthday, during matriculation or any other excuse on university campuses by more senior students: and the gist of what goes on is in the name. Think water, immersion, soaking wetness/ pummelling, and the guffaws of friends enjoying your every reaction. Fun.

43) Post Kaya

It is that person - sometimes at school, sometimes at work - who wants to curry favour with the powers that be by jumping on every task with alarming, ingratiating alacrity. 

44) Raps

Beware the sonnets of a smooth-talking chancer who promises you the sun, the moon, the stars, the Northern Lights  and the nine planets. He is giving you 'raps'. Go figure.

45) Shine!

The streets of Ghana resonate with a rhythmic tapping that the trained ear immediately recognizes as belonging to a passing cobbler. Shoe shine boys, as they are known, often ply their trade on nimble feet, stopping by homes and stores as and when their services are called upon to polish or mend shoes. Before long, a patron will be shouting 'Shine!' in response to that tap! tap!

46) Sakora

This double entendre, on one hand, refers to a head completely shorn of hair (baldness), and on the other hand, anything (usually a meal) that is woefully lacking...something - example, koko sakora.

47) Sankofa

Sankofa is an Akan language word usually typified with an Adinkra symbol of a bird reaching backwards. It signifies the importance of learning from the past in order to forge ahead in the future, and literally means 'go back and get it.' 

48) Skinpain

Hater. You know, those people others tell to 'go sip on some Gatorade and stop the haterade.' 

49) Some way bi

Something that is not clear cut. Most recently, the term has been popularized by Ghanaian rapper and songwriter, M.anifest.

50) Small chops

...because who can be bothered to say 'hors d'oeuvres?'

51) Susu

Could just be the piggy bank where loose change is grown, or an informal collection and saving scheme operated by any group of people, society or club that is set aside for the proverbial rainy day.

52) Takeaway

The thing about takeaway is that here we aren't talking about food from a takeout restaurant. No, it's the surplus that must also be budgeted for at a private party so that even after guests have eaten their fill, there must still be enough for them to 'takeaway'. A party bag, if you will.

53) Toli 

A story that may or may not be as far removed from the truth it purports. Don't fall for it. 

54) Trotro

A tro-tro is a minivan that typically carries anywhere between 16 to 50 people (or more). It is a crucial link between people and their destinations, packing experiences such as petty squabbles, heated debates, foul-smelling armpits and amusing times into one journey. See more here.

55) Too-Known

All-knowing, all-seeing, all-annoying. Relax, you don't know everything.

56)Tweea

Until recently, 'tweaa' was the go-to word to express disdain or derision. Now it is mired in political wahala and has even risen ranks to be a banned word in Ghana's parliament. How's that for notoriety? As usual, my people are having a laugh with this one. 

57) You don't know what is happening in Dodowa Forest

Who knows? It's all a mystery...

And there you have it, some of the words and phrases colouring our speech 57 years after 1957. I love you, Ghana. 

Still.

My Ghana dat!

I have been to the Ghana High Commission in London approximately two times.

On the first occasion, I happened on an invitation the High Commission had extended to my father for an evening with President John Mahama. As he was away at the time, I considered it my patriotic duty to go in his place, and promptly went off to find a suitable attire in my wardrobe. Incidentally, never having been there before, and most definitely lost and running late, I found the High Commission through protesters gathered across the street from the building, self-consciously chanting, ''Mahama is a thief! Mahama is a thief!'' into waiting cameras. It was the first time I saw the president in the flesh, as well as other prominent members of government including Hanna Tetteh, Harruna Iddrisu, PV Obeng and Nana Oye Lithur. It was June, the height of the election petition challenging the validity of Mr Mahama's election as president of Ghana, and so it seemed to me that the speeches that evening were full of irreverent quips regarding this, and re-hashing of party slogans and rhetoric like we were at a miniature rally. It wasn't without laughs, let me tell you, and the entire evening was pleasant enough.

The second occasion was today when I went to renew my Ghanaian passport. After being processed through the reception and ticket counter, I was making my way to a seat in the waiting area when I heard someone call my name. I thought, no way! Who knows me around these parts, and why the flippity floppin' heck is there no such thing as anonymity in a Ghana-centric place?! I was laughing to myself before I turned the smile in the general direction the sound of my name had come from. And as I spotted the familiar face, I felt my skin infused with genuine warmth.

It was Trevor, a darling old English gentleman who'd adopted Ghana as his second home long before he found even more reason to keep going back: a Ghanaian wife and young children in Accra who won't let him enjoy a slow life in his retirement. The first time we met, we discovered our Accra homes were minutes apart (Mataheko to my Kaneshie), and that he'd left Ghana and crucially forgotten to bring his supply of Tetrapleura tetraptera - that's prekese to the uninitiated, something I had quite a bit of in my food basket at home. My nkwan is not complete without some 'preks'. I am my grandmother's granddaughter after all.

We were chitchatting when my ticket number was called. I made my way to the counter.

''I like your earrings,'' the gentleman behind the counter said by way of greeting.
I fingered the beaded hoop earrings and smiled my thanks.

''You like travelling paa, eh?'' He said, flicking through my passport and noting the USA and Schengen Visa stamps.

''Er...yes,''

''Do you speak Ga?'' He asked in Ga.
I wasn't even going to outdoor my paltry Ga here, but an answer in the negative I could manage. So I said, ''Daabi.''

He gave me a look. ''You should be able to speak Ga.''
I rolled my eyes. ''I speak Twi.''
He cocked his eyebrow. ''I don't speak Twi.''
I cocked mine. ''I don't speak Ga.''
He smiled. ''So we'll have a problem understanding each other then, won't we?''
I flashed him my own saccharine smile. ''I don't think so at all. I understood everything you just said. Let's stick to English, shall we?''

He threw his head back and laughed. I think...I think he thought his flirtation skills were up there with the slick professionals. I was bemused - and more than a little concerned this back and forth would make me miss the plumber and surveyor due at mine in half an hour to see a problem with my kitchen pipes.

Eventually, he stamped my form and told me a date to pick up my new passport. I did a bit of haggling. It had nothing to do with price, and everything to do with surely that's a long time to take to process a simple renewal. Mr Speak-Ga said he'd do his best for me. He disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a new, nearer date. I held my tongue and fought the urge to ask why he hadn't offered me that date in the first place.

He gave me a smile like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Ha.

I shrugged my coat on, bade goodbye to Trevor and let myself back through the reception en route to the exit. On my way in, it had just been the receptionist. Now it was lively with chat and bonhomie, whilst three grey haired men with ample pot bellies sat laughing on the chairs. As I walked through, I made eye contact with each and said good morning.

The last one said, ''Oh, you are a good girl!''

I smiled inwardly. Because whether you are in Ghana or not, there's also no such thing as walking past your elders without acknowledging them with some form of greeting.

Things I've Noticed Since Going Natural

Having natural hair, I tweeted recently, is a bit like being pregnant. People touch it without your permission and offer unsolicited advice.

A few days ago, I was a little distressed to realize the biggest Afro comb sold by Pak Cosmetics was already in my bathroom, and that I'd wasted my time browsing through the shop looking for the next size up. Distressed, because I'm now in possession of an Afro, which, while still a teeny weeny halo, likes to declare a tug of war every time I try to comb it. While still in the shop, I paused by a row of leave-in conditioners and was startled to feel a hand experimentally rubbing the back of my head. 

''Your hair looks so healthy,'' cooed an older woman with a Caribbean accent while her friend chuckled approvingly next to her. ''Do you use olive oil?''

I jerked my head out of her grasp.

''No,'' I said shortly.

''You should!'' The woman nodded knowingly and walked away before I could respond. 

I have been here before, I thought,  these nameless interactions when someone tugs on my hair for one reason or other. It is irksome because it is one of those things I don't know about until it's actually happened and my hair sticks out in odd ridges. I am baffled how since cutting my hair, others haven't hesitated in passing judgement on it as though I'd personally walked up to them and requested it. Who'd have thought that my hair would trigger conversations that have amused, engaged and annoyed me in different ways. Here are a few: 

- Some people erroneously think that the new state of my roots means I want to join in a collective weave-bashing rant. They go from complimenting my hair to a one-sided diatribe against women who use extensions in one or other.  Jaysus, I get it! Now you may go rant elsewhere. Because here's the kicker: I really don't care what other women do to their hair. It is their business just as my tresses are mine. 

- Interestingly, a few men have linked my hair to a romance gone sour. ''Who broke your heart to make you do this?''
Now I'm generally familiar with the concept happening to others, but, personally it is so alien to me that any time it comes up, I laugh with genuine mirth. I am amused that these men would think there is a correlation between my hair and my relationships. My heart has also never been broken, but thanks for the concern. 

- There has also been the sub-section that subscribes to ''Is this some kind of black empowerment political statement sort of thing?'' 

Oh boy, that old hot potato.

I laughed at this via email to my friend  who also has natural hair, and her response summed my feelings perfectly: ''Nobody goes natural for the movement. It's always convenience first, and then movement or not, it doesn't matter. Important thing is that your mind is liberated and you make the hair choices you want, not choices dictated by any movement be it straight hair, natural, weave, whatever. Hair and physical appearance must never be an albatross. Be whoever you want to be, not what others say you should. As evidenced here, even at your baldest, you are beautiful!''  Dear Debbie, how I love her to bits!
  
- I'm being described more and more as a ''strong black woman.'' Well, hide the razors and call me Samson after our man in the biblical  book of Judges! Pre-natural hair, I already knew I was black and strong, but I was never described thus. In fact, I don't remember a time when I was not black or strong, the people who raised me having nurtured the latter from a very early age. But APPARENTLY, my Afro puff shows I'm made of steel and the sterner stuff of life. 

I jest. Yes, this compliment - and I use the word recklessly - is somewhat in connection with short hair denoting confidence (read strength); yes, it is an acknowledgement that letting one's hair grow in its natural state is a form of acceptance of self, and I can see the strong woman tag in this regard. But for the love of all that is natural, how do you explain a statement such as, ''You look like a strong black woman...but I still wanna dance with you,'' as I had at a club recently? No sir, I will not dance with you, mostly because I need to pee right now - and that line of yours only ignited boredom in my cerebrum.

I haven't a particular emotional trigger that  brought on the decision to go natural, and, considering my penchant for melodrama, I'm almost disappointed. In fact, at the time, in that original email revealing the new look to my two best friends, I wrote: I took out my long rasta (at last!) and I balked at the idea of combing through all that undergrowth. Ebei. I went to the barber instead. So there, the political activists have it. I went natural out of laziness. 

I like that there is beauty in opinion. We all have them. Why, I'm sitting here right now writing mine on my blog, so clearly I'm already smug in the knowledge that the whole world is entitled to my opinion, ha. The point, you see, is that whatever your views, freedom is the ability to choose. 

I am loving my hair as it is right now, however, if next month I choose to go back to Claudine, my hairdresser, for a relaxer or whatever, it will be simply that - a matter of choice.

Hair today, Gone tomorrow

I have been collecting nicknames both from clients and cheeky-natured colleagues since rocking up to work in my new natural crop.

I must say I don't entirely dislike being called 'Foxy D', 'GI Jane' or  'Mama Africa' on account of the new roots sprouting on my shaven head. Nor do I mind being described as 'radical', 'dramatic' and 'striking'. In fact, my work friends have joined me in adding to the list of names I laughingly started when I  realized more 'accolades' would be a-coming as more people saw the new look. There has since been 'very Rihanna', 'doing a Grace Jones' and 'wow, look at those lips!' Hmm...

To be fair, before the chop, I'd sported long, bum-grazing braids. So I can see where this is considered something of a jump.

Of course I've toyed with the idea of cutting my hair before, most memorably last May when my usually benign dad - because what he rendered on my head could only be considered 'malicious', though he vehemently denies this - gave me what I'll call an interesting haircut. Hysterical screams, followed by more hysterical laughter could be heard from the bathroom, amidst cries of, 'OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!' I'd leaned forward and squinted hard at the mirror in the vain hope that what I was seeing was a clever trick of the eye. But trompe de l'oeil, while a great feature in art, is simply non-existent when you will it to be in cold reality. Or more specifically, when the scraggly bits starring back at you testify soundly of good hair gone bad.

Suffice it to say that's the last time I'll ever willingly hand a pair of scissors to my bespectacled old man.

On the barber's seat last week, I found I was the only female getting a haircut. Sam, the barber who has for the past year and half been giving regular shape to my perm cut, was instead charged with chopping the lot off.

Funnily enough, what has taken some getting used to hasn't been people's surprise and pleasure - though I am reveling in both - BUT reacquainting myself with the wide expanse of skin that is my forehead.

Ahem.

Say hello again, world.

56 Things You Need to Know About Ghana

This here, my Ghana-centric post marking 56 years of independence, is to be read, sometimes, with as firm a tongue in cheek as I had whilst writing it.

1) Ghana is pronounced 'Gah-na', not 'Guyana', 'Gha-nya', or - even more ridiculous - 'Ganja'.

2) There are many languages and dialects spoken in Ghana, and not one of them is called 'Ghanaian'. So don't ever ask someone to say something to you 'in Ghanaian.'

3) Be that as it may, LAFA is a language onto its own in Ghana. Wharrisdat, you say? 

4) Ghanaian Pidgin English is a parallel language which waters down English while mixing with local dialects.

5) Ghanaian is not spelt G-H-A-N-I-A-N

6) The name Uruguay can still trigger intense emotion from Ghanaians. Whatever you do, don't mention the hand of Luis Suarez in South Africa 2010.

7) Local food is an institution in Ghana. You haven't lived until you've had waakye early on a Saturday morning, preferably in ahaban (leaves), fufu and aponkye krakra (goat meat) soup in a chop bar, yam and kontomire in an asanka (earthenware bowl), and omo tuo (rice balls) amongst other dishes.

8) Price is negotiable, and there is no shame in that. However minuscule it appears, haggling is the name of the game when you street trade or buy. No haggling dents your street cred!

9) Realise that asking for extra of the commodity purchased is an intrinsic part of shopping in the market. 

10) You have to be nimble-footed in the marketplace if you cherish any part of your body. The man with the wheelbarrow laden with food products really doesn't care that he's nearly taken out your hip with his metal monster.

11) 'No man's land' is a phrase that must have been coined for the people of Ghana. So what if a tent has been erected, and an entire side road has been taken over by the mourners and well-wishers attending the memorial service of Mr What-is-his-name with no permission, nor apparent concern whatsoever for blocking the road? Swallow your rage and find an alternate route.

12) 'Post no bill' is the most pointless warning you might ever see written on a wall. This is why in spite of the usually bold red letters, that very wall or gate has - among others - obituary notices and remedial class availability.

13) When it comes to beaches, you're spoiled for choice. Take your pick from any of the sandy destinations that litter the coast of Ghana, and go get wet.

14) On any given day, you will hear two or more of the following sounds: a cock crowing, horns blaring, hawkers peddling everything from toilet roll and bananas to mobile phone credit, your next door neighbour bellowing for 'Naa'sei/Akpene/', someone sweeping and singing, with the occasional discordant note creeping in…because in Ghana, noise is spelt C-A-C-O-P-H-O-N-Y.

 

15) ECG stands for Electricity Company of Ghana - but you’d be forgiven for thinking it is rather Electricity Comes and Goes

16) You will catch Ghana at various moments of emotional outbursts through the microcosm of society that travels by trotro. Football, politics and religion have been known to be the subject of much heated discussions on this common form of public transport. 

17) Everybody knows it’s not a homecoming if you haven’t been re-acquainted with aforementioned trotro rides. Or perhaps it’s just me.

18) You should realize that hawkers have every right to your body. Freedom of movement is very real here. How else were they meant to grab your attention except by pulling your arm, tapping your shoulder or - even more brazen – practically giving you an awkward side hug to draw your attention to the goods they are selling? Or better still, shove their wares under your nose, right in your line of vision for good effect. Marketing by visualization…that qualifies for a Sloan School of Management research grant.

19) Markets produce more terms of endearment than your average short-lived romantic dalliances. ‘Sweetie’, ‘ahuofe’ (beautiful), and 'love' are words you might hear thrown your way as you walk through any market, though the level of urgency with which they are proffered could hardly be confused for the dulcet tones of your lover.

20) Expect your attention to be called to by any of these sounds: clapping, hissing or long drawn out kissy sounds, though this last is supposedly complimentary.

21) Inscriptions on various forms of public transport occasionally turn people into
vocabulary vigilantes, but trust me, they are legitimate entertainment when you are
out on the street. Example: ‘Conquer the deviel’, ‘Jeseus is alive’ (which alone is
another crucifixion)

22) Speaking of roadside entertainment, be on the lookout for..er..creative spellings of
names of shops – ‘Grace of God Anoiting Saloon’, anyone?

23) We love all our neighbouring countries, but everyone knows we have an especial
‘rivalry’ with our cousins over in Nigeria.

24) Braiding salons remain one of the top places to pick up pieces of highly useless
gossip about people you'll probably never meet whilst your hair follicles are being
molested into compliance.

25) I lied about 24. Sometimes the subject of said gossip is probably only a few feet
from where you are.

26) Your car, front lawn or house could be ‘called upon’ at any moment to provide a
nice backdrop to the picture that woman in her Sunday best is currently having taken.
Take it as a compliment.

27) Kelewele stands across the length and breadth of the country have seen
some serious romancing between the sexes over the years. Sometimes, the relationship
is incomplete if it doesn't involve nighttime strolls to buy some well-spiced fried
plantain and peanuts.

28) The skyline of Accra, the capital city, has especially seen some dramatic changes
in the last decade with the addition of many commercial edifices. For the younger
generation, ‘The Mall’, has become one such place to see and be seen.

29) Ghana is a colourful pastiche of culture and heritage, and nowhere will you see
this more vividly displayed than at festivals. Some popular ones are: The Homowo
Festival of the Gas in the Greater Accra Region, The Damba Festival celebrated by the
Gonjas, Mamprusi’s, Nanumbas and Dagombas of Northern Ghana, and the Adae and
Akwasidae Festivals of the Asante. A veritable sight to behold!

30) Visit any one of the thriving arts and crafts stores and villages in the country, and
you will be awed by the intricate detail and workmanship. Expertise in wood carving,
weaving, pottery making and ceramics, to name a few, tell their own traditional stories
dating back centuries. 

31) Some tailors seem to be especially schooled in the art of disappointing their clientele. They told you your custom-made outfit would be ready on Saturday…and you believed them, expecting to wear it for that special event on Sunday? Come again!    

32) The loud music, free flowing booze, boogieing and general bonhomie may not immediately give it away, but somewhere in the midst of all that, you will eventually realize it is a funeral, and that in Ghana, they are celebrated, spirited, and over-the-top.  

33) Unless otherwise stated, the attire for funerals is red or black. Donations made by mourners to the family of the deceased are usually announced with colourful language.

34) It is indeed a small world. In Ghana, it shrinks even further. Six degrees of separation? Puh-lease! We halved that before the theory even had a name.

35) That one herbal drug or ointment the salesman is peddling on the trotro cures headaches, body aches, rashes, boils, irregular bleeding, abdominal pain, kooko (hemorrhoids), irritable bowels, erectile dysfunction…just to mention a few.

36)  Tsooboi!’ is a clarion call to action which evokes the response ‘Yei!’

37) It is a common practice to greet strangers and inquire of their health. 

38) Lorry stations are a cacophony of destination announcements, though not exactly as you might know them. In Accra, some unsuspecting passengers in trotros have missed their stops at ‘Kwa-leb’, ‘Cerc’ and ‘Kanaish’ due to not recognizing the names as actually being ‘Korle-Bu’, ‘Circle’ and ‘Kaneshie’ respectively.

39) A hawker/trader who carries their wares on their head could ask you to help them balance their tray of goods back on their heads. Be careful as you do so - and for the love of God, don’t let anything drop or things could quickly turn sour for you.  

40) It is nice to call out ‘Ayekoo’ (Well done) to any workman as you walk past them.

41) Flashing could mean all sorts of things, but in Ghana, it’s more than likely the practice of giving a deliberate ‘missed call’ to another in the hope that they have the wherewithal to call back.

42) Sometimes you have to practice hurdle jumps. There are many open gutters in Ghana.

43) I don’t care how evolved you are, if he looks old enough to be your uncle or father, do not address him by his first name. It has to be the avuncular makeover. Everyone considerably older than you is an ‘Uncle’, ‘Aunty’, ‘Bra’ (Brother)..etc. That is the way it goes in Ghana and most African countries.

44) Gari, dried cassava grated to produce a coarse powder, is something of a staple in most Ghanaian homes. Students in boarding schools are especially grateful for this humble ‘companion.’

45)  You greet, give and receive things with your right hand.

46) Tales of the eponymous spider in the Ananse stories have tickled and cautioned many Ghanaian children. Kwaku Ananse’s web of subterfuge and trickery probably rubbed off on a few rambunctious ones, too.

47)  Even if the purpose of their visit is glaringly obvious, it is customary to ask what mission brings a visitor to your home – but not before offering  some water as a welcome gesture.

48) There is such a thing as ‘mandatory’ worship; because in Ghana, you are never far from a group of enthusiastic believers.

49) Your peripheral vision needs to be on extra sharp sensors. Traffic situations can be chaotic.

50) Sometimes a man is measured by the amount of chichinga (khebabs) he can lay on for the ladies.

51) Azonto needs no introduction - even if you are rhythmically challenged.

52) The peculiarities of giving children traditional Ghanaian names differ from one ethnic group to the other.

53) Ghanaians outside the country love transporting the culture of the nation into the Diasporan life. Chieftaincy, authentic Ghanaian food, traditional marriage ceremonies - you name it, we've got it sorted. 

54) Ghanaians are warm, hospitable people who make visitors feel right at home with a friendly smile and some water to bid you our traditional welcome – Akwaaba.

55) After giving the world a peacemaker in Kofi Annan, and Africa’s ‘Man of the Millenium’ in Kwame Nkrumah, whether or not Cardinal Appiah Turkson succeeds Pope Benedict, very few will be able to say they have not heard the name Ghana. Grab a globe and find out where Ghana is… It is in West Africa BUT never refer to Cardinal Turkson or Pope Turkson as the West African, he is Ghanaian NOT Ghanian.

56) Ghana is one of Africa’s success stories. We have our terrific highs and desperate lows, with the sort of unshakeable optimism that lets us enjoy the creamy middles between those two. My people are vibrant, with bursts of humour and joie de vivre; they are hardworking, with hopes and dreams of creating a country that is better than what they have been presented with. And I would like to think that we are united, wherever our location, by the realization that it is only through our collective effort that we can bring progress and strength to our nation.

Happy 56 years, Ghana…my Ghana.