My sister arrived yesterday. 4 years younger than me with a personality very similar to our mother and acts like she’s 4 years older and wiser. The good girl who didn’t mess up at school, went straight from GCSE’s to A-Level and Uni without even one resit, got a 2:1, got a good job. The first time in her life when she failed her exam was when she was doing her ACCA. That’s when we finally had something in common although my failures came with a lack of interest and I just wasn’t serious (which she candidly pointed out through the tears). Nevertheless, she got through them to become a qualified accountant, I went on to eventually finish my Masters and take another degree, and here we are at the present day.
I’m sure there will be a few more fights and a lot of tears before she goes back.
Anyway went to the airport to pick her up. The flight was delayed for an over, my mother was pacing up and down and I sat down and people watched. Hundreds of people anxiously waiting for loved ones, colleagues or just hoping they could catch a fare. I’m sure there were also people there who had nothing to do but come out to the airport.
It got to around the time when the plane landed and I went to stand behind the belted barrier to watch out for my sister. Luckily enough I managed to manoeuvre my way to the front (being 5’3 has its advantages). I was standing there when a young lady and her toddler caught my eye. The young lady was just looking around and hadn’t noticed that the little boy had just pulled down his trousers, removed his pants and was now struggling to take the sticky tab off of his nappy. I assume he is being potty trained at the moment and needed to go. His mother had told him that he should pee in his nappy, but little man felt that he was too big for that. I was now turned around looking at the boy struggle with the nappy and practically rolling on the floor laughing. The lady still hadn’t noticed until someone let out a loud EH! She then noticed and scooped her little boy up to deal with his situation.
Not long after this the people started coming out. The first batch were the people on the KLM flight. All the (mainly) Ashanti’s who had flocked to Holland for a better life were now back to flaunt it in the faces of their relatives. I observe two type of characters who check-in at Schnipol Airport. The first is the young Ghanaian man (very rare to see a Ghanaian woman married to a white dutch) who is dating/married to a white dutch woman. Always dresses casual, jeans and T-shirt, and hair is either dreadlocks or cornrow.
The second are mainly Ashanti’s bothe men and woman, and I like to call them the OB’s. Forget Original Gangsta, these are the Original Bogga’s. They are always dressed in bright coloured shirts, normally (fake) Versace, and hands and fingers are dripping with gold, bracelets, rings etc…, a few have bleached skin, the ladies are wearing extremely high heels and the men are wearing a baggy 80s type track suit or high wasted Simon Cowellesque trousers. They are also carrying the maximum limit on booze (priorities right?). The British people among them however are dressed more conservatively, ladies are normally in flats (really on a long journey where I am having to take my shoes off at every security gate, flats are key).
The British Airways (my sister’s flight)lot came out soon after, not as flamboyant and interesting as the dutch flight. But could here the sound of “innit dow”, and “yeah man, you know what I mean dow” from young girls with hair pulled up using half a tub of gel wearing their skinny jeans and thought…ahhh, the sounds of East Street market. Now I feel at home.
So from now until the new year, there will be a further inflax of British, French, German, Dutch and American expats, all finding their way home to celebrate the christmas. You will find the young ones (all nationalities) at Accra Mall, and Oxford Street Osu during the week. Rhapsody’s or Bella Roma on a Friday night and Labadi beach at the weekend. Somewhere in between their parents will be dragging them to see various family members.
Most of my Dutch friends you will see this morning on the VIP bus to Kumasi and upon arrival will be tucking into a big bowl of fufu with goat meat, grass cutter and tuna fish.
Yet another Christmas in Ghana