This is a story I forgot to write about that happened a couple months ago of which I was reminded yesterday. One weekend in mid-November, Fred made plans to hang out with me, but he kind of stood me up, so on the following Monday he just showed up at my house to apologize and to take me out for a drink. We found a hotel called the “Hollywood Lexus” in Madina whose flashing Christmas lights caught Fred’s attention. The inside of the restaurant was draped in curtains and was rather tacky as far as the bars and restaurants I’ve been to go, but for Ghanaian standards, it was niiice. Or so Fred said.
That part of the night made sense... going out for a drink in a nice restaurant with a friend who wanted to make up for standing me up. But something happened on the car ride back that I NEVER would have expected!
Fred is a generally predictable man with a few completely and delightfully unexpected quirks. One such quirk is his love of country music. Country music? In Africa? Apparently so!
Imagine me sitting in a car, silently laughing at the irony of my situation, as my African friend drove me through the crazy Ghanaian traffic, negotiating his way around trotros and taxi cabs, speeding past plantain trees and little shacks selling kenkey and fish by the side of the road... listening to country music. I’ve never been a fan of country music, so don’t remember exactly which songs were playing, but I did recognize the singers’ names (I did attend a midwestern university for four years, you know, where I was one of the minority who refused to listen to country music).
A year ago, if someone had told me that I’d one day be driving through the suburbs of Africa in a car with country music blasting on the speakers, I never would have believed them.
I’ll close with a cliché: Never say never.