Its a slow Friday at the newspaper office, i.e. I'm the only person here. Thats ok, though, as it means I get to use the only computer with internet.
Last night I went to the weekly Karaoke at the Karldorf bar, just up the rode from my house. The place was packed, and crowds of Ghanaian youth spilled out on to the street. The speakers were pumping African hip hop, called hip life, and many people were dancing. We made our way through the crowd, and had just ordered a few drinks, when a man showed us some seats, rare scores in such a crowded a place, though. They came at a price, though; He sat down next to me and started yelling and spitting in my ear over the noise of the speakers. "You like to Fuck?!Fuck! You like to Fuck?"
I turned away from him to talk to my friends, but it was hard to hear them over the music, so we decided to leave. I could feel the mans fingers on my pockets as I stood up, a last attempt to get money from me, but I ignored it because I knew I had nothing. We made our way out of the circle of tables but got caught up in a dancing crowd and were soon lost, lost in the music.
I danced with a full figured African girl for a bit, but most of the time I was dancing with guys. This is not considered weird at all, in spite of Ghana's strong anti-homosexual sentiment (I haven't met a Ghanaian who didn't hate gays). At one point me and another boy faced each other and rapped the lyrics to Cisco at each other, another time a guy approached me and began yelling in Twi at me. I yelled what little Twi I knew back, this went back in forth until we were embracing and screaming gibberish in each others ears.
Men here are very physical with each other, when you meet some one they immediately reach for your hand and often don't let go until the conversation is over. Often, I have met someone at a dance, that is one of the three dances I've been to, and found there arm around my waist a moment later. I am convinced that this is motivated from pure friendly spirit (as long as they're not trying to pick your pocket), and also, from a practical stand point, it makes sense because one needs to be very near someone else to be understood when the music is loud.
Ghanaians like their music, and they like it loud. I remember seeing a young woman dancing in front of a loud speaker at a beach party, and then being surprised when she turned around and I saw she was carrying an infant on her back. But music seems to have a irresistible pull for the Ghanaian. On several occasions, all work has stopped at the newspaper office as people started dancing to the ever blasting radio.
Back to the Karldorf. A well dressed Ghanaian boy put his arm around me and introduced himself as Batman, a popular Reggae artist. He told me about the many awards he has won and his upcoming gig with Jay-Z, the American rapper, and then asked me if I wanted to sing karaoke with him. Why a famous Ghanaian singer wanted to sing karaoke with a white boy, an Oburoni, I don't know, and I had other reasons to doubt his honesty as well. But that was irrelevant. Me, my British friend Michael, and Batman went to the DJ and told him we wanted to sing 'Ghetto' by Akon. I had never heard the song, and it didn't help that the karaoke machine didn't work, but I yelled and whined and sang on the microphone while our friend Batman poured his heart on the other mike.
Nobody much payed attention, but when we were done, the dj told everyone to thank us 'white brothers' and I was happy that I had done what I could to improve international relations.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, I met a few more people and went through all the handholding and question asking and laughing that is part of the elaborate ritual of greeting practiced here. Then we finally got away from Batman, whose habit it was to grab you and sing lyrics in your ear, and went home. Good night.