Drostless Nyash and Other Gifts II

So, you remember the outing I was talking about (if you do not, go back and read Part One of the writing, you disloyal being lol)… anyway, I enjoyed every bit of it. In fact, a friend I had invited to come along actually got someone hitting on them, which gave me the chance to be a wing woman. It was kind of nice being an annoying wing woman because my default setting is oblivious to any sort of flirtation. I just think people are being nice. Call me crazy or wired different—a few short circuits in some places and extra connected circuits in others.

Once I knew this person liked my person (my friend), I immediately put them together and walked far, far away, just checking in to make sure she had drunk water. At some point it rained. The DJ moved the sound system to a shaded facility. Between getting lost on my way to the bathroom and finally setting up again and dancing some more, I eventually decided to go home. It was late, around 2 AM.

And this is where the second experience—my lesson of novelty—comes in.

I had just traveled back to Ghana, so my kitchen was not very stocked. Knowing the kind of evening I had and knowing I didn't have food, I decided: which of the mini food places can I stop by? There's a place on East Legon that sells waakye only at night. I'm sure there are many spaces like that in Accra, however, what I know is what I know. I was not trying to play late-night/ungodly morning hour food roulette, so I decided to be boring and get food from where I KNOW there is food at 2am.

On my merry way, I am stopped by the cops in Ghana. As usual, it is uneventful. As usual, they ask for something small for the boys. Now they have moved from "fine girl" to "hello Aunty." I guess I am manifesting my rich aunty vibes as I patiently wait for the logistics of the rich aunty vibe to locate me… M'ashallah!

Thing about Ghana police is, I've found a way to maneuver. A little bit of niceness goes a long way. They're not supposed to do it—I mean ask for little monetary gifts—but also, if your government isn't really paying you, and the economy is hard, it's a culture. While on paper it is "bad," people will always find ways to look out for themselves. But also, what's bad and what's good? That's all relative, isn't it? Depends on who you ask. But I digress. Let me not start a tangent.

So, while people know it's not appropriate behavior, it's the culture of the space. And no cap, when I have very friendly cops on the road who relate to me like a human, I will just say, "Here, get some water for yourself." They didn't even ask me. Or even if they did, I'll do it anyway—not because they're letting me get away with anything, but because I recognize that the economy is hard and a little kindness goes a long way. I guess to a certain extent you can say I'm enabling bad behavior, but what happens when your system is completely failing? And also the flip side of the uniform is the power trip that can come with it. No matter how meager the pay, a uniformed personnel will always have more power than the civilian. Besides, in Ghana, we do not hear of police killings, so if a small token of appreciation will keep morale and encourage them to do their work, then so be it.

Back to the food situation.

As I'm pulling into the parking space next to the food joint, this SUV—Fast & Furious style—slides its way right next to me and actually cuts me off in my car. I'm like, "What the fuck are you doing? How are you driving like a madman?" I already have a mean mug on my face because I decided I can't be smiling at people. You smile at people and then people don't know how to behave and they start talking nonsense. This one, though, just acted like an idiot, so I'm cussing him out in my car. Mind you, my windows are up because while I'm cussing out, I'm not trying to start a fight. I am not looking for a death wish in these streets.

This dude (yes, I checked) pulls up next to my car. I get out of my car, get to the food spot. I get there before he does. The vendor is serving someone, and then when he's done, it's my turn. He says, "Ladies first." I just verbatim say, "I was here first." And he was like, "Are you sure? I parked first." I'm thinking fuck you did!!!  I tell him, "Yes, but I got here first." And I'm saying this with a smile on my face.

Anyway, I step up to order and code‑switch to speaking Pidgin with the vendor—which a lot of people never expect from a blonde‑haired alte‑bougie‑juju‑village‑looking woman. I order what I'm going to get, pay for it. The guy who is collecting my mobile money payment rounds up my sum, and I ask him why he rounded it up. He's like, "Oh, so that the number is round." Fuck, we are rounding MY money up… nonzinze. I say no, pay him the exact amount, and leave.

Sidenote: I don't know why people think they can be collecting my money. Every time I enter some of these spaces of commerce, they are looking at me and treating me like I'm rich. In fact, they've called me "Rich Aunty." I had to verbatim (almost rudely) disregard a cashier in a supermarket because when I offered to pay with my mobile money wallet, she was like, "Oh, if my Rich Aunty has come, why would she be with Momo?" And I said, "I'm in a hurry, Momo." She kept quiet and the transaction was finalized.

Anyway, I grab my food and leave. I'm driving on my way towards the house, and then I see a car pull up next to me, trying to get my attention—because the way in which he drove up to my car was… I'm thinking, what the hell? I look out. It's this guy. The same guy who said "ladies first."

Now, the car I'm driving belongs to a friend, and there's an interesting phenomenon with the window on the driver's side. You can roll the window down with the button, but when you try to roll the window up, you pull the button up, and it goes up about 2 inches, then you need to wait for three seconds, then pull the button again, and it goes up another 2 inches or less. Then wait another three seconds. You get the gist. Which means if I wanted to cuss someone out and roll my window up suddenly so I don't hear what they have to say? It will not work. Kole work!!!!

This Accra Nii Nortey Van Diesel guy pulls up next to me, and I'm like, "What's going on?" So I roll my window down—forgetting that my window has this problem. And then he's like, "I want your number." Now I'm driving, he's driving, and I'm on this street, and suddenly I think: How the hell am I in a movie right now? This is stuff I've only seen in films. What is going on? I'm trying to tell him, "Dude, what are you saying? If you're trying to talk to me, pull over to the side."

Anywho, there's another car behind us who I guess sees the interaction of us trying to match speed side by side and is pissed! The Nii Nortey Van Diesel guy drives past me and gets in front in my lane, and then the driver in the other car that is pissed actually gets to where this dude was and cusses me the fuck out. (ROTFFLMFAO). I feel so pissed off, but also it's funny as shit. And the window of my car is not going up fast enough, so that means I hear all the insults that are being hurled at the two of us, but directed at me.

And I thought: WOW… why did he not go and insult the dude? But also, this movie‑like experience in real life is actually stressful! lol

I mean, I've always known that movies were not real, but being in a movie‑like experience in real life and ending up with insults? I thought it was a very novel experience. How many people get to have their own version of Fast & Furious? And this isn't even a highway. But why do movies also lie to us about this experience to make it sound like everything is so smooth? Like, y'all actually block off the roads you shoot these types of scenes on. There's control. But in real life? Yeah, you will get cussed out by drivers.

So that's my lesson/epiphany number two.

Epiphany number three is a lot more somber, but stay with me, and I'll share that with you.