The Great Gatsby

Got up at 6 to catch a ride with Eddie, my boss, to Tafo, a small town north of Accra. He was going there to meet his friends and play some golf, so he invited Magda and me along for the day. We met the guys at 7 and drove for two hours in one of the massive American four wheel drives. Our driver turned out to be a US educated and trained chiropractor who owns practices throughout the country and happens to be surprisingly passionate about his profession. After the first half an hour on the road he turned off the African tunes swinging through the car and put on his favourite chiropractor audio CD collection. Full of useful tips and tricks for the enthusiastic chiropractor. After about 20 minutes he realised that this particular edition was not a great conversation starter and turned it off. Magda and I politely asked a few vaguely chriopractical questions to get the conversation rolling again and it turned out that the guy, who somewhat resembles Barrack Obama, also has the capacity to talk like his lookalike, especially when the conversation is chiropractic in nature. So by the time we reached Tafo two hours later Magda and I were experts in the field. (So if any of you blog enthusiasts have neck or back pain please use the comment section below and we will endeavour to answer your questions or, alternatively, refer you to our new friend.
As we arrived in Tafo it turns out that we were invited for breakfast to the CEO of UT bank, one of Ghana's largest banks. He lives modestly in a mansion in Tafo with swimming pool, outdoor bar, entertainment area and servants to match, all within close proximity of the local golf course. The guys is a bit of a Great Ghanaian Gatsby with the slight difference that he himself likes to 'party hard' (coincidentally also the title of his favourite dance song, as we were to discover later on). Unfortunately we arrived a little late and the other avid golf enthusiasts had already completed their breakfast so with a sandwich in our hands we quickly rushed off to the golf course, which was a rather impressive contrast to bustling Labadi, the suburb we now call home in Accra. The lush green countryside and beautiful African trees provided the perfect backdrop to this tranquil golf course. To my great relief my answer to Eddie's question about my handicap (something along the lines of 'my handicap is that the ball goes backwards more often than forwards') was enough for him to point us in the direction of the pool and the adjoining cocoa plantation as Ghana's high society proceeded to battle it out on the greens. Magda and I then spent most of the afternoon swimming in the pool, wandering through the cocoa plantations as well as the nearby town and wondering why men like chasing balls.
After a couple of hours the gentlemen had finished their final round and it was back to Gatsby's mansion for dinner. While Magda and I were salivating over the thought of a buffet with lobster and champaign, the chefs were busily preparing fufu and groundnut soup. Now as much as I am a fan of egalitarian societies I would much rather the plebs eat lobster and caviar than the kings, and one of them was present, eat fufu and groundnut soup. To our surprise royal fufu is a lot better than the Labadi version. Nevertheless we were relieved to find out that there was another option, which unsurprisingly involved chicken. Chicken, I should mention, is considered a vegetable in Ghana, as we found out several times when we tried to order something vegetarian. Even though we explicitly asked for no meat, we were served some 'vegetarian' dish with chicken.
As the night progressed and alcohol flowed freely the party started in earnest and our host seized the opportunity to show off his dance moves. It is fair to say that Ghanaian people love to dance, with the men often times showing up first on the dance floor, but the Great Ghanaian Gatsby is in a league of his own. The way the CEO of UT bank swings his hips puts even Beyonce to shame and made me pray I wouldn't accidentally be shoved onto the dance floor to exhibit what Magda likes to refer to as 'white man dance'. Soon enough I was shoved onto the dance floor and as I was carefully keeping my distance to Gatsby I couldn't help but wonder if his chiropractor friend had worked some magic on his incredibly elastic vertebrae. After a few more drinks Gatsby was roundly focused on the curves of the young Ghanaian women and it was time for us to head home.