Untitled #1

Writer’s note: I couldn’t come up with a title for this story, so I decided to leave it blank. Feel free to suggest something in a comment! Enjoy.


Gyan heard the drumming of the rain on the aluminium roof long before he woke up. The steady rhythm completely fused with a dream he had been having. In his dream he was in Cape Coast, and it was Fetu Afahye. The drums were being played by the local drummers and they were magical. He felt his feet moving even before he had decided he wanted to dance. It was as if he wasn’t in control of his body. He’d heard of a similar story by some Western hand called the Something Piper; where a man had used a flute (or was it a trumpet?) to make some people dance till they disappeared. The person who wrote it must have been to one of the Afahye festivals. Those drums were played with amazing skill. They put the worried out of their pain; they shot youth into the bones of the old; they put grace in the limbs of the clumsy. Yes, they even…

Gyan woke up from his akpeteshie induced sleep with a start. Rain! It was raining! He thought with excitement. But why was he excited? He sat on his mat for a few long seconds before it finally came to him. He had car wipers to sell! He couldn’t even remember where he had gotten those wipers from. They probably fell off a truck and unto his lap, he laughed silently; one of those things. He picked up one of his three pairs of shorts and put on the same shirt he had been wearing all week. Then he scooped up the bundle of car wipers from bundles of other things he’d stolen or found. For a moment he contemplated taking along a raincoat and then decided against it. People were more likely to buy from someone they took pity on. And what was more pitiful than a man selling in the rain? It worked for the guys who were always screwing up their love lives in the bootleg movies he watched. All they had to do was stand in the rain and they’d be forgiven. Armed with that confidence he stepped out.

Halfway out the kiosk he lived in, he wished he hadn’t stepped out. The rain pouring outside wasn’t a normal kind of rain. He would have to sit this one out.  In fact he tried to turn and enter his kiosk but, almost as if on cue, a gust of wind blew the door shut and all his efforts to open it were wasted. It was jammed. He cursed himself for not taking a raincoat at least. Cursing himself some more he trudged through the rain on a street he couldn’t even see because it was submerged under dirty, foul-smelling water. The gutters were overflowing again. He thought of the open manhole somewhere at the back of the kiosk where he and other members of their small community eased themselves at least twice a day, and he cursed himself some more. Putting his current predicament into focus, he decided, in a split-second, to double the price of his already overpriced wipers. The customers would have to pay for this nonsense, he swore.

6 thoughts on “Untitled #1

  1. If am allowed to over think into this, it kinds of gives me a different picture of what is on the surface. Beneath it I see how our behaviour as a people in all aspects of life being nicely described in a short real life issue. I stand to be corrected though

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