Adabraka! I grew up in Adabraka! It was a beehive of activities. There were discos like Miracle Mirage. It hugged the side of the slope that led to Circle. That was the first disco I entered wearing a flowered skirt and top, feeling out of place as I sat in the dark confines and inhaled the mixture of smoke, cologne, and leather. It was a heady feeling. The City of Adabraka was unique. During the day, corporate activities boomed. The streets bustled with tire-wearing men and smartly dressed women working. In the afternoons, students from Oreilly Secondary School mixed up with public school students, and they thronged the street in front of our house as they walked home. However, during the evening, nightlife was exquisite. Bars blared loud music as they brought out chairs for their guests. There was Darjona, Avenue Club, Teenhood’s Drive Siblings on Board, Ma at the Wheel and a host of others, including my mom’s own makeshift bar. It didn’t have a name. It was a square hewn out of concrete. My sister and I took turns managing that bar many times. Adabraka was next to none when it came to food. There were steamy food joints. One of such was Lominava (it meant “if you love me, come”). The queue was maddening. Then, there was Dzibordi. Herhhhhh... their banku was soft and hot. They cupped it with a small calabash, making it look like a woman’s boob in a half-bra. When the fetri dekyi (Okro soup) was scooped and put over it… Chale, your taste buds would jerk up. Then, there was this cooked white rice with meat stew that was adjacent to Hajia’s Waakye. They served the rice in green Waakye leaves. It was delish. I used to smile at her son, Yaphette, but he never dashed me this rice some days. Ei. A few minutes down my street, past Family Clinic, this diminutive Akwapim woman made Aboboi and Tatale. Her eyes had a permanent squint from all the smoke that billowed to her eyes when she dropped spoonfuls of oil into the flat pan that fried the mashed ripe plantain. Of course, there was a Kenkey house. Perhaps two major ones close to me. I loved the Amma Ntowaa with ‘look-alikes’ in Mfantsiman 16 The Birthday Journal
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