There are only 3 or so free weekends on this trip and until this last weekend, I had not taken the chance to go out and experience Accra’s nightlife or site-see. On our last free weekend, I knew that it was time for a change.
On Friday night, the majority of us went to Kiki Bees, a popular spot for live music in East Legon. After a short walk over, we were immediately greeted and ushered over to a Cabana. With seats and a fan, we all sat and listening to the music alongside three guys from the dorms who had decided to join us. After a few hours at the club, it became evident that food was a necessity. We divided up and took uber rides, involving a tumultuous police checkpoint, to the pizza chain, Peter Pan. After you sit down and wait for your fried food in a fast food joint for an hour or so past midnight, the reality of where you start to hit and the popcorn chicken sounds a lot better on your couch than in the booth. We got our food and headed back to finish our snacks in closer to our beds.
The next day I went out to do some site-seeing with three other people from the program. We took a car down to the coast where the Kwame Nkrumah mausoleum, Black Star Square, and Osu castle were. The mausoleum was my favorite of the sites. They had a small museum with some of his dorm furniture and the clothes he wore when Ghana declared independence from England. He is a controversial figure in Ghanaian history but is worth learning about. We continued on and walked to the other spots down the road. Along the way we stopped and took a picture with recent journalism graduate and even walked through a Ghanaian business exhibition.
Later that night it was time to celebrate Nicole’s 21st birthday. After getting dressed up and spending some time together in the boy’s new and improved house, we all piled into some ubers and headed to Osu, Accra’s downtown. We arrived at Bloombar, one of the more popular bars in the city. As we were passing through security one of the girls, Madi got stopped because she was wearing slip-on flats (which is apparently a very subjective no-no here). Not to be kept from a night of dancing, we did a little reconfiguring. A group of us went into the bar and made a beeline for the bathroom. I went into the stall, took off my shoes, and waited, trying to keep my bare feet from touching the ground. The group returned with Madi, now wearing my shoes which had been carried out in a purse so that she could join us.
Now that we were all dressed “appropriately” we made our way out to the dance floor where the boys were waiting for us. Together we all danced under the lights to Ghanaian and American songs. After about an hour, we were reminded that it was monsoon season and the skies opened up. People fled for cover, leaving only a handful of very wet Oregonians out on the dance floor. Years of Eugene winters had prepared us for this moment. Looking like fools, we carried on dancing, unphased by the downfall. I couldn’t tell you what songs were playing, but we had a blast. I hope I never forget wringing the rainwater out of my hair and laughing as I tried not to slip as I danced.
Eventually, the monsoon let up and the staff started sweeping the massive puddles of water out the door of the club. People slowly returned to the dance floor and the pace picked up again. I’m a terrible dancer (like so bad) and am always worried that I look a bit lost on the dance floor. But there with all of my friends, soaking wet, the realization that I had just made it through a whole month in Ghana, I didn’t care.
