Cloudy day today, a storm cloudy day, a rainy day. When I saw the clouds, I knew. I didn’t need to look at the weather prediction. Snow clouds are different. They have an eerie light, almost a warning system. Fair day clouds are puffy and very white. Storm clouds cover the sky and darken the day. The pine tree branches look stark, even bold. A winter rain is bone chilling. I will not be going anywhere today. I am into comfort and warmth.
I started reading a Ghanaian mystery by Kwei Quartey. It is the fourth book of his I’ve read. His plots are simple: murder, investigation and arrest. But I am not drawn to his novels by the plots. It is Ghana. I love reading of places where I’ve been and of things Ghanaian. I know what dinner looks like when it is fufu and stew. The main character was riding through Adabraka, a section of Accra. I knew it well. The hostel was there as was Talal’s, a spot for lunch, for Peace Corps pizza as Talal used to call it: pita bread with tomatoes and melted cheese. A movie theater was within walking distance of the hostel as was a pretty good restaurant. Back then, if you were young and white and asked to go to Adabraka, the taxi driver would take you right to the hostel for twenty pesewas from anywhere in the city. I looked for that hostel as did my friends Bill and Peg. We didn’t find it. So far in the novel, Death at the Voyager Hotel, we haven’t a murder, a death yes but only one person believes it a murder.
A dismal day demands little, and that’s what it will get.
