HOT ACCRA AFTERNOON
jerry KWATCHEY@kwatcheyjerry128608
2 days ago
#poetry
HOT ACCRA AFTERNOON
The fan whirred lazily above, spinning like it too dey feel the heat. Sunlight streamed through the window, scorching everything it touched the floor, the walls, even the old poster on the corner that seemed to sweat along with the room.
From across the street, Frenzy’s Pub blasted Ghana Afrobeat into the sweltering air, the drums and guitar strings riding invisible waves. Each note bounced off the walls of nearby buildings, merged with the whirr of the fan, and somehow gave the heat a pulse like the city itself was alive, breathing, sweating, dancing.
Outside, goats and chickens darted in chaos, seeking shade under corrugated roofs and market stalls. The sun glared down mercilessly, reflecting off the tin sheets and turning the street into a shimmering, almost hypnotic heat mirage.
You leaned back in your chair, towel across your neck, sipping water that threatened to be instantly warm. The world slowed each beat of the drums from the pub syncing with your heartbeat. The heat was oppressive, but the music… oh, the music made it sweet.
Then came the whispers on the street: “Ebo Noah report? Flood?”
Laughter followed nobody really believed it, but it gave the day a strange tension, like the sun itself could tip over and flood the city.
And there you were, suspended in the middle of it all heat, music, urban chaos watching Accra dance, sweat, and survive in the lazy, golden afternoon.
The fan spun.
The drums thumped.
The city lived.
And you just… breathed it all in.
A Reflection from the SIMU Collection.
1 day ago
