Another gorgeous day, both sunny and cool, not a bit of humidity. With the gala so close, tomorrow night, I have a filled flow chart of tasks for both today and tomorrow. Today is mostly errands.

We never went anywhere fancy when I was a kid. Most places where we ate had paper napkins. The place settings were a fork, knife and spoon. More than those would have been confusing. It was in Africa when I first encountered multiple forks, linen napkins and serving men wearing white jackets. I was totally out of my element. The event was a luncheon in Bolga for the newly elected Prime Minister, Kofi Busia. I was invited because I was one of the few white people in town, and I always got invited to events at Government House. A formal, embossed, printed invitation was always sent, usually for cocktail parties which I seldom attended. This was the first luncheon ever held as far as I knew. The tables were covered in white linen. Multiple glasses and utensils were beside and around each of  the plates. The waiters wore starched white jackets and had white towels hung over their arms. The Ghanaian women were dressed formally in beautifully colored fabrics. Their dresses were layered with a top, an ankle length skirt and a matching cloth wrapped around the skirt part of the dress. The men wore suits or kente, a traditional Ghanaian hand woven cloth. The kente was worn wrapped around the body with one shoulder uncovered. I was most decidedly under-dressed in my one layer Ghanaian cloth dress and sandals. I tried to stay in the background which was difficult as everyone else was Ghanaian. I shook several hands, took my seat, politely chatted with the guests on each side of me, put the napkin on my lap, took my forks from the outside in and listened to the speakers, especially Mr. Busia, whom I’d heard once before in Bawku when he was campaigning.

The luncheon broke up after his speech, and as Mr. Busia was leaving, he shook a few hands including mine. I smiled and said nothing. Mr. Busia then moved on and out of the room.

That whole event seemed surreal. I, Miss Paper Napkin, had dined with the Prime Minister. It was the most uncomfortable I ever was at any event I attended in Ghana, but I don’t think anybody else noticed. I suspect most guests felt the way I did and were too busy figuring out all those forks. Ghanaians most often ate with their hands. I always liked that, the sharing of a meal with all of us sitting around the dinner pot chatting and laughing.