Last missive from Ghana

Sunday

“The airplane will wait for you,” our representative from the cocoa co-op assured us.

“Check-in is now closed, and we have sold your seats,” the representative from the airline assured us, twenty minutes later.

“This sweet give you sperm,” the driver of the car which eventually had to take us all the way to Accra giggled as he handed us some nuts he’d bought from a boy at the traffic lights. The nuts tasted of coconut but left the grit of sawdust in the mouth.

Flying into Abidjan, felled palm trees looked like a game of Spilikin, sadly abandoned.