gone daddy gone

On a sick day in Accra, your Canadian friend in Ghana pauses for a moment and thinks about some good and bad things in recent days:

Good?
+ Lupe Fiasco
+The phrase "Abou-DAM!"which means "crazy person" and is the tagline for a very popular and possibly insane hiplife artist here named Kwaw Kesem. It's kind of like saying "WORD!" or "Yeeeeaaah!" (in your best Little Jon voice) but sounds infinitely better.
+The fact that I found cheese fries here on a Saturday night, and waakye on a Sunday morning.
+hugs from people who you previously thought didn't like you.
+Me to younger brother (who I haven't spoken to in about six months): "Blah blah blah Ghana this Africa Accra music fun miss you"
Younger brother: (after a brief pause) "Is it true you don't have TV there?"

Less than good:
+A woman pushed me out of a tro-tro the other day in the usual crush. I fell on the ground and broke my heel. They were really nice shoes. I was irritated.

+I have been sick on and off for two weeks. The cause is mysterious. Food? Water? Lack of water? Ulcer? Dysentery? Whatever it is, it makes me wish I was home in bed where I could be all pouty and pitied appropriately.

+In another "Ghana is great for Alison's ego" vein, people keep calling me "white man." In some dialects here, the gender nouns are different, so I understand to a certain extent. But five times in a row? When I'm wearing a skirt? Really? Give a sister - or "brother" as it were - a break.

+I woke up early one day and sat alone by the beach near our house. I was blissfully in thought about various things. The breeze ruffled my hair. The tide was excitingly high. And then I was approached by three men who engaged me thusly (each conversation exactly the same:)
"Hello. What is your name? Where you from? Oh, Canada? I want to go there. Can I have your phone number? I want to be your friend."
After seven months, this exchange is no longer charming. With the first man, I respond with very Canadian politeness: "No, I already have a friend, thank you, see you later, bye."
With the second, I am slightly more brusque; "Please, I came here to be alone, I don't give out my number. Thanks."
And finally, to the third: "Why don't you go jump in the ocean and leave me alone?"
Then I actually did walk into the ocean, soaking my skirt, while my would-be husband looked on with mild interest and also confusion. Then I stormed off, clumps of sand whirling around me, sweaty at 10 am. Pissed off by a situation that I thought was funny a few months ago.

I wrote this list to make my sick head feel better. Looking at the list, it's unfortunate, but the irritating things are resonating longer with me. And I think once the little things begin to grate, when you are not as easily charmed or amused anymore, that it is time to go home. It's not real. It's not how I want to remember this place. So, I go.