So I have no plans whatsoever to meet guys in Nzema nor in the Ivory Coast. But what do my plans matter? Everywhere I go, some man or another practices his pick up line on me. He asks for my name, introduces himself, and invariably states I want to take you as a friend. I guess I’m supposed to say okay and give my number ( the US one of course), but I so cannot be bothered to play along. I boldly and clearly say NO and they look so surprised. Too funny! Ohh, just a friend? they ask. I know, I say, but I have enough friends and I won’t write to you, email you, nor call you! They back off, with Ahh, ok, I’ll get your number from Uncle, Nana, Auntie or whoever it is we are visiting. Those who feel educated try to impress me with their knowledge, which only serves to make them look worse. You know?!
One sign I have arrived in Nzema (which borders the Ivory Coast) is the sight of men with permed hair. Oh!! Why?!! I blame Ivorian people, especially Didier Drogba, SO NOT COOL!!!!
Back in Accra, I could be walking down the street minding my business when all of a sudden some man – on the street or in a car passing by – would ask ever so politely Please madam/sister/auntie, could you come here a minute? And I reply just as politely NO! which is promptly followed by a surprised Oh! why?! as I go on my merry way. There’s no other reason a guy would call out to an unknown woman to come to him except to make her acquaintance. So, instead of summoning me to his feet like a schoolgirl to the headmaster, he should come to me himself! N’est-ce pas?