Bentsifi’s Tattle: A guy about town

It is bitter cold and dressed in three layers of clothing, I am visiting with Joe, my old pal from my days at GIMPA, and strolling along the shopping avenue here in Northampton in mid land England, where he now lives with his wife, Rita.
 I am waiting for him to finish work in a couple of hours to come and take me home. I am window-shopping and enjoying the sights.

As I imagined, this industrial town is bustling with people in its town centre but its character doesn’t seem any more different from such London suburbs as Croydon or Kingston, though it is about an hour and a half away further inland by train.

The same shops parade the avenue, the same cobble stone gothic building stands with a clock tower at one end. Perhaps, the only thing that seems a bit different is the fact that whereas in Croydon, for example, you would see a sea of people of African descent strolling along, here you see more Caucasian folk.

So imagine my surprise when suddenly, behind me, I overhear a hearty conversation, a greeting and an inquiry about whether ‘Asante New Town’ the Ghana store in town had taken delivery of some “ngwa” – snails, - for, some were needed in an impending palm nut soup the inquirer was planning.

And all of this was verbalised in bouncy Twi. With a scarf tightly wrapped around my neck to cover my ears from freezing in the wintry conditions, I moved my whole body round in an effort to see who they were. Perhaps, Joe had finished early and come, for I hardly thought I would find any more of our kin so settled in this town.

I was fascinated. I shouldn’t have been, I know, but these things always give me a certain sense of awe, knowing that, Ghanaians are indeed all over the world irking what living we can.

It was the same sort of feeling I got when in 1984, visiting Brixton, an area in south London where a riot - led mostly by black people - had taken place a few years before, my sister Lavinia took me into a store retailing hair and beauty products and transacted the business there entirely in Ga.

Then, it was even a revelation. A most interesting eye-opener. This Asante New Town must have in stock every notable ingredient needed for a well-spiced Ghanaian dish, for when we eventually got home, Rita had prepared for me, a most delectable bowl of fufu and light soup with ox tail and cow foot, and I, given how hungry I was by the time we finally got in from the cold, gave it all the necessary attention it deserved.

Now, the English weather has always been a source of discussion given its erratic nature. And like its proverbial reputation, today’s weather had travelled full circle, giving us a fresh cold breezy morning, leading into a bitter chill with some wintry drizzles of snow, and now, around 8p.m, some sunshine as if it was midday.

My sojourn in this part of the world at this time of the year was ‘dealing with me’ and by the next morning, I had developed a full blown cold in spite of wrapping up ever so tightly in the days leading up to today.

Back in London by the following weekend, I found myself at the other wine bar, Safari in Streatham, which is also run by a Ghanaian, and looking at their menu felt completely at home as we ordered kelewele and such. But it was at this Nigeria hang out in Wembley called Mama Calabar, up on the third floor of this building, that DJ Ishmael and his entourage delighted us with his dexterous spinning of some hip life numbers. 

I am so ready for the Vodafone Ghana Music Awards. I can’t wait to see the opening act, which tends to be quite a spectacle for the event. With the Dome closed for renovation and the event set to take place inside the auditorium of the International Conference Centre, with limited seating, I need to get hold of my ticket in time to be able to get a seat.

So eager to be at the Vodafone GMA, something happened and I missed my flight. That was not such a problem as much as how the airline then treated me in the aftermath. I’ll share the experience with you next week.