There appears to be a sense of expectation coming out of Ogyakrom. For some of us, we can not escape the feeling of dejà vu ( pls don’t add all over again).
We are certainly not pessimists since we never wear our trousers with a belt and suspenders at the same time!
However, knowing fully well the paradigms within which Ogyakromians operate and their intransigence to real change, we cannot shed the tugs of apprehension.
We need real and serious change.
The weighty question is if our new leadership has the kahunas/ stomach to effect the seismic attitudinal change needed and back it with concrete actions that will propel us along a trajectory of real and sustained development and progress.
Already, the cast appears to feature several old actors.
But perhaps it is much too early to worry that the mists that have beguiled our national aspirations will not be dispersed.
These were the sentiments that I was preoccupied with as I strolled through the Mkch Médina yesterday.
I had entered a fandouk and was rummaging around in one of the stalls when I came across a pile of half a dozen old Holy Qurans.
Each one was bound in a solid leather cover that had a warm dark glow from the patina. The script was elegant; bolder in some volumes but executed always with a deliberate delicate beauty that evoked a work of art.
In the same booth was a heavy scabbard in silver plated metal with exquisite filigree work.The sword handle featured both metal and wood- with solid patina on the wooden part- evidence that this antique piece had seen use.
Further search yielded a midnight blue antique woolen wedding cape with an attached hood.
The cape had the most elaborate hand done silver thread patterns of spirals and moorish arches located in front and extending over both shoulders to the back.
It had a few moth holes, but still a definite show stopper for any damsel even today on the red carpet.
“Zwein. You like? C’est ancienne”, said Rashid the bronze skinned well built stall owner with the short cropped dark hair.
“Zwein, it’s beautiful”, I replied as I caught my breath.
A Moroccan architect friend some time back had alighted from his spanking black Mercedes “palanquin” (with cream leather interior) wearing a black Djallaba which he had accessorized with a black cape; he looked so majestic- all six foot and a hundred kilos of him.
Funnily enough, just last week, B- the designer, had offered me a black cape.
When I tried it on, Texas Eddy said that I looked just like the famous picture of Emperor Haile Selassie the All Conquering Lion of Judah.
B had intoned that if I appeared for dinner at any Michelin starred restaurant wearing the cape, I would immediately be offered an excellent table even if I did not have a reservation.
Maybe it’s time to take the plunge.
Perhaps, the first outing with the cape should be to the Le Comptoir and see how many belly dancers come to dance on my table.
The last time we were there, we were good enough for two belly dancers and one passed her red scarf around Texas Eddy’s smooth pate.
His son, Alex had never and I am sure will never look so wide eyed.
That was fun!
But I am sure sure that a black cape in Accra will get the tongues of especially the Charismatics and regular Ogyakromians wagging.
I certainly will not be prepared to hear their mouths, so maybe I should pass and keep it only for the Red City.
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