There is a pause when the lights go at 1 a.m. and the fan stops whirring. Until the generator shudders to life and the air returns to the room, the fan whirring reassuringly over your head again. In that pause you hear the world of other sounds that exist outside the electric drone. A neighbour’s child, the thunder of a storm making its way across the night, the dying moments of an evangelical service, a lone dog barking in the distance, insects whose names you do not know. The sounds of nighttime Accra are so familiar that in those seconds when I wake up in the sudden and unbearable stillness I get confused about where I am.
There are many moments of confusion during my time in Ghana. It is déjà vu for something I have not yet seen.
Excerpt from Azonto Lessons, a piece I wrote for this month’s issue of Caribbean Beat.
Read the full piece here
Tillah Willah 