Posts Tagged ‘streets’

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Photograph by Dextdee Photography

I’m here and there with tissue paper under my eyes to soak the tears in case I cry after realizing I was picked by two smart guys.

It happened last night, at Circle, in Accra when I thought, wisely, I’d caught a pickpocket in the act. The victim was obviously unaware, but the thief saw me; I gave him an awkward look. Guess what he said to me, “this is even nothing… Waste of time”. He spoke English, in oversized tattered clothes. Apparently, he got a pack of Mentos Gum with a bundle of keys.

But it was a decoy. I have to admit, that was smart. Impressive. That, on the other hand, made me feel dumb.

Why didn’t I just mind my own business and walk away? I could’ve clearly avoided looking at him and giving him that 5sec awkward look. Did I cause this??

The tissue paper is still dry under my eyes.

Darn! It hurts to lose one’s own item, no matter the magnitude of it.

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bicycle

In Ghana, or probably everywhere, bicycle riding is an honorable phase of a child’s life. Unlike almost everyone else, I never learned how to ride a bicycle. I’m in my early 20s and still have no idea how to handle a bicycle. Yes, there’s a story behind it.

In my early years, I used to live somewhere around First-Light, Kaneshie in Accra. Crossing the road wasn’t a big deal for me until I was hit one day with a speeding bicycle. Why that changed me for a while whiles growing up, I had no idea. I wasn’t really into the TV telenovelas and dramatic love stories so even till date, I still wonder why being hit by a speeding bicycle should gives me a scare whenever I saw one or about crossing the streets.

I wouldn’t say crossing a 3-lane street is fun for me, especially when it looks like there’s no vehicle on the road, that’s more of a scare than a busy road.

In college, I remember mentioning to my study group members that I never learned how to ride a bicycle when the topic of childhood events came up. The look and expressions on their faces was such a turn off.

“You be dada-b waa”, one said.

“Chale, man hustle small oo”, I replied.

“But dada-b kwraa can ride a bike”, another teased.

In the end, we laughed it off… wait, honestly, we did not laugh it off. Why am I being so modest here? Truth is, they laughed at me and said my childhood was boring and wasn’t that much fun. I felt sad, naturally. But my consolation was the fact that they didn’t know about the other phases of my childhood. I never told them my mum chased me with a pestle one weekend, till I run into someone’s room, because I lied about a sensitive issue. I never mentioned I had to walk from Seven Great Princes Academy in Dansoman all the way to McCArthy Hill with my brother because we’d unknowingly spent the money after weekend class with friends. They didn’t know my dark childhood days and my darkest plots even when I was seemingly quiet innocent looking girl. And you don’t need to know either.

All said, I’m growing up to be a good woman for the sake of my future, family and all those directly and indirectly connected to me.

I will learn how to ride a bicycle. I’ll let you know when I do.