long-legged rock god

At rehearsal with a Ghanaian band for whom it is imperative to have two different drummers side by side. There are three brass horn players and I have counted four different patterns of stenciled colour on the walls. The room is filled with people speaking Ga and Twi and pidgin and the carpet is striped. The hand drummer is unable to play as he keeps having to get up from his seat to dance. The kit drummer gives out commanding shrieks of joy. Brass section is tight. I didn’t want to sing Redemption Song but the bass player said, Tell our story. On the way home, I rewrote it on the back of the bike, saying Oh pirates, yes we rob you. Sell you to the merchant ships.

But your hand was made strong/by the hand of the almighty. We had ridden two hours on a motorbike in catastrophic traffic to get here, scattering streetlight vendors selling popcorn and plantain chips and iced water in plump bags and millet milk from zinc pails on top of their heads, finally spinning onto a long rutted red dirt road consumed with dust. Gig is Friday night and it is going to be wonderful.

~ 1st December 2021, a different world