I have to say things have been really good in Kumasi-here lately. The power and water have been on 95% of the time. Ramadan is over so those long evenings of zombiesque Muslim moaning have subsided. The weather has been cool and dry with just enough rain to keep the dust down and green up the lawn. The house is staying clean. Life is good.
It’s 7am on Sunday and I’m sitting at my computer savoring a steaming cup of Ghanaian cocoa. Vodaphone has consistently provided us with enough internet connection to look into the windows of the world with the exception of the occasional banned video. A recent clip of Bill Moyers discussing the decline of the American family comes to mind.
We are eating well, perhaps a bit too well. Avocados and mangos are still in season. Beets and cauliflower continue to make their way to the corner markets. The gardens are keeping us stocked with herbs and greens.
Our expat friends have begun to return from their summer holidays. The last of our summer interns will soon leave and we’ll roll forward with a new core group of house mates which will remain static for the next three months.
But you know me. If there’s a turd in the punch bowl, I’ll spot it. And since you’re waiting for the punchline, here it is. Life is very good these days until someone, anyone who can afford a car battery and a loudspeaker and feels they have something to say, decides to blast their message to the world in the wee hours of the morning.
And so, we were awaken today, as we are on many days by some garbled, angry ranting madman shortly before 5am. Raging about god only knows what – Jesus maybe. After half an hour, I got up and did some yoga to the Beatles. I looked for “Blackbird” (singing in the dead of night) and settled for “Sun King” to drown out the blood thumping tirade. And scrubbed the toilet.