"No, we don't have it!"

Super Noodle deliciousness :/

“No, we don’t have it.” If I had a cedi for every time I hear those words I wouldn’t still be eating off the street specials board on a daily basis, which, just in case you were wondering, ranges from Super Noodles fried with egg, veg, corned beef and sardines or plain rice, salad and boiled egg, how delicious - SAID NO ONE EVER.

I’m currently sat in a quaint roadside restaurant, abusing their power source because my house has been without electricity for more than 48 hours (#Ghanaproblems). This jolly little joint has become a familiar haunt for me over the months and I’ve grown used to staring at the mouth watering pictures of double cheese burgers and meatylicious pizzas that adorn the walls as I wait for the waitress to take my order.

Not quite my idea of fine dining

Upon my first visit I was presented with a menu offering me everything from rice, noodles and pasta, to sandwiches, pizza and burgers. As the owner went through the list with me nothing seemed off limits, although I was advised I would be waiting a long time for certain items. I went with the grilled chicken, fried rice and homemade coleslaw (my quickest option) and I didn’t have a bad word to say.  

You have to appreciate I live a light-year away from any shopping malls or the town centre, which means my chance of getting any grub that hasn’t been prepared by the open gutter is pretty slim. So when I came across this place just ten minutes away from my house I thought I had struck gold.

Why bother giving me the menu?

A few weeks later I popped in on my way home from work excited to sample what other delights their five paged menu had to offer. As I took my seat and eagerly placed my order of beef stir-fry the waitress began shaking her head. “No, we don’t have it.” I then tried my luck with the cheese burger but again my request was met with a resounding NO.

“We only have tuna sandwich, chicken sauce, fried chicken or grilled chicken.” I went with the sauce, which pleasantly surprised my taste buds despite its food poisonous colour, in fact I liked it so much I decided to order it again on my next visit. “No, we don’t have it. Only grilled or fried chicken.”

She eventually stopped giving me the menu and now my choice is usually fried chicken, fried chicken or, you guessed it, fried chicken. You can imagine how annoying this is but in Ghana it is nothing new.

Being presented with a menu at a restaurant actually fills me with dread. It’s a bit like when Chris Tarrant presents you with the cheque you could have then says “But we don’t want to give you that,” before snatching it away.

"But we don't want to give you that!"

Restaurants run out of dishes, it happens, but when it does I expect to be told a. before I peruse the menu b. with a smile c. with an alternative option and d. with a sincere apology. Instead I’m given a fu*k load of attitude and made to feel like it’s my fault for asking for something so ridiculous as a salad.  

Just the other week I entered a smoothie bar, the waitress handed over the smoothie menu without so much as a word, I went to place my order and she said “We don’t have smoothie.” What do you mean you don’t have frigging smoothies your sign outside says SMOOTHIES. Lost for words would be an understatement.

So the moral of the story is : When in Ghana, place your order with extreme caution, prepare yourself for the worst and contain the urge to first pump the air when your first choice isn’t rejected. 

Wish you were here XOXO

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Africa : Day 1

(All photo credits SDR Photography)

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Africa is considered the granddaddy of them all by the continent and opening night was full of showstoppers, surprises and stumbles graceful falls. When it comes to nailing next season it’s clear it’s all in the sheer. It’s the trend that dared to bare and won and remains a statement to make in Spring/Summer 2015 if last night’s runway was anything to go by.

Thousands of fashion industry icons, young local talent and international media descended upon Melrose Arch, Johannesburg, for the continent’s premier trans-seasonal fashion showcase, to celebrate not only Africa’s newfound identity as a trend-setter, but one with a clothing and textile industry now able to rival any in the world.

 

Kibonen NY

Intisaar

Kibonen NY kicked off the star studded evening with a collection inspired by the Cameroonian designer’s memories of the colourful marketplace in her hometown, Bamenda. The result was a resplendent scene alive with colour. Signature prints and bold stripes made for a ferosh blend, ideal for mixing and matching. Sensual silhouettes were also adapted for functional daywear.

The Intisaar Collection closely followed with eye popping colour block, navel grazing crops and lust-have throw overs. The Zimbabwean designer’s line remained faithful to its signature reflection of rural African dress with wrapped, knotted and draped pieces of cloth. A spin on popular geometric inspirations created striking shapes and silhouettes around the female figure.

Next to rock the runway were the 6 Elle Rising Star finalists but it was Tamara Dyson who came out on top. The winner’s collection wowed with woollen warmers, peek-a-boo sheer and the crowd went crazy for the chic sleeveless, oversized jacket. Monochrome two pieces embraced curvilinear looks, while looser silhouettes were teamed with shorts. But it was the metallic bomber jacket that sent us over the edge.

Elle Rising Star Winner: Tamara Dyson 

CHARIS DAWSON's collection was THE definition of fashion 2.0. With back packs donning computer mother boards, tantalising shimmer and futuristic prints the pieces certainly oozed an other-worldly feel. While the backless sheer screamed sophisticated sex appeal.

Kelli Botha’s collection got us hot under the collar with her fetching fetish leather ensembles. Again it was a master class in monochrome with waist-clinching knee grazers, and masculine pant suits airing an element of feminine charm, were teamed with trench coats and leather jackets.

Nadia Vilogen Ermelo

Mille Collines’ Nyamijyosi collection gave us a sneak peak at their street line, a first for the label and their boldest yet. Statement tees and novelty necklaces screamed attitude, perfectly matching their song choice “bringing attitude hard”. But the main focus was on their formal / evening wear. Sharp lined maxi’s and midi’s graced the runway with sheer layers and even a pop of patent fetish. A metallic strip made a marvellous addition to the timeless mac and several ensembles boasted street edge handcrafted accessories, our hero being the Sk8 Shades.

There’s a reason Taibo Bacar was the first African brand to display at Milan Fashion Week because that show was INTENSE. He was the hot ticket and easily the most anticipated event of the evening and the Pret-A-Couture collection did not disappoint. Organza and fake fur “capulana” and beads, brocades, georgette and mesh made for some interestingly fabulous combos. Italian vogue meets African Print sprang to mind as Van Goughesque waves, flower lace, gothic chic, elegant A lines, transparent ponchos and fetching fetish strutted down the runway. He gave us a taste of what is truly A LUTA CONTINUA “the struggle continues”, inspired by current situation of Mozambique, and deserved every standing ovation, wolf whistle and applause he got as he skipped down the runway between his poised models.

 

Taibo Bacar

O'Bruni goes to fashion week

Where the magic happens

It's here, it’s finally arrived, the day every 22-year-old, fashion loving, journalism graduate dreams of, my very first fashion week is about to kick off in all its unrefined glory.  

Thousands of designers, models and international media have descended upon the shoppers and foodie lover’s paradise that is Melrose Arch in the ultra-cool, uber modern city of Johannesburg, South Africa, for the fifth annual Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Africa.

1981 (Nana K Brenu) collection fitting

We will be celebrating not only Africa’s newfound identity as a trend-setting continent, but one with a clothing and textile industry now able to rival any in the world. Over 30 of Africa’s foremost established and emerging designers will present their latest collections in the continent’s premier trans-seasonal fashion showcase, over the next four days.

Organiser and leading fashion authority, African Fashion International (AFI) has unveiled an extraordinary line-up of sartorial talent from all over Africa – including Cameroon, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Rwanda, Kenya, Mozambique, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Nigeria, Tanzania, Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire – set to showcase under this year’s theme, “Our Heritage Reimagined”.

As the week unfolds I will be bringing you live updates to see who rocked it on the runway and whose collections you should be crushing on. And it doesn’t stop there, head on over to Afrobougee to feast your eyes on amazing pictures and exclusive interviews with the seasons most sought after designers including Taibo Bacar, David Tlale and Christie Brown.  

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly nervous, interviewing the continents hottest internationally acclaimed designers is kind of a big deal, but I know my love and excitement for the job will soon takeover. For the past hour I’ve been brushing up on my fashion buzz words, ferosh, sheer and recessionista are all terms floating around in my head right now.

But it’s almost time for the first show so I must go and get changed into one of my outfits far less fashionable than is probably acceptable at such an event, but hey ho the show must go on. #MBFWAFRICA

Wish you were here XoXo

"Dogs belong outside"

Arise's first day at home

As a young emotional wreck of a woman, who breaks down in tears at the mere thought of animal cruelty and dreams of one day opening an animal sanctuary to take care of all the abandoned animals on the planet (excluding reptiles and other scary creatures), it is extremely difficult living in a country where animal rights are pretty much none existent.

Baby goats roam the sandy streets desperately looking for something green to eat and stray cats and dogs hunt for scraps in a bid to get some meat on their protruding ribcage. I just want to scoop them up in my arms, stroke their tummies and tell them it will be okay … but then I remind myself that I will get rabies and die.

Goats looking for greenery

My heart sinks when I have to drive past the roadside pet store, where tiny cages line the streets each filled with three or four puppies inside. Men also walk up and down the streets or beaches juggling handfuls of puppies in the blazing heat trying to flog them like a pair of socks.

And you can imagine my horror when I had to spend an entire bus journey riding alongside two pick up trucks each carrying a cow, an alive cow i might add, strapped up in the most torturous position. No one so much as blinked at the sight, while I fought back the tears. 

My dog being king of the castle 

To the majority of Ghanaians animals belong outdoors, regardless of pet status, end of story. Generally people get animals for a service around here, dogs to guard the house, cats to chase the mice, chickens, goats and cows to eat etc.

I have grown up around doggies my entire life and in my house we treat them nothing short of queens. I miss my little puppy more than words, despite her being a little bitch, so you can imagine my overwhelming excitement when I arrived home from work one day to see a small puppy trotting around the living room.

My very spoilt puppy 

I discovered it belonged to my boyfriend’s uncle who had bought it earlier that day and named it Arise after his former dog. I was told this man loved dogs so I had faith. I couldn’t see any dog bed or water bowls or any form of pet essentials yet but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

After about three days I noticed he’d been moved outside and tied to a metal chain because, surprise surprise, he was chewing everything. HE’S A PUPPY IT’S WHAT THEY DO! You can’t leave a puppy alone in a room with no toys or food and expect him not to sample your new sandals.

Giving Arise some love

There was still no sign of a water bowl and his one meal a day consisted of super noodles or rice. I pleaded with his owner to buy him dog food but he told me they couldn’t afford it. Then I got really angry. “WHY BUY A DOG IF YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO LOOK AFTER IT?” I shouted, before running to my room and sobbing.

I bought him what I could with the little money I had, bearing in mind I could hardly afford to feed myself and every day I would go and sit and play with him. When I came back to England I asked after him every day and hoped to God he was doing okay.

When I arrived back I couldn’t believe my eyes. Two months had passed and he had grown a little taller but his waist had gotten smaller. His fur was matted and he was running around in circles, throwing himself on floor desperately trying to rid an itch.

A likely sight in Ghana

I asked what the hell was wrong with him and I was told they’d covered him in engine oil to stop the insects from worrying him. ENGINE OIL … WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DOES THAT. It was the last straw for me. Knowing I could do absolutely nothing for this defenceless animal I vowed never to step foot in that house again. 

Everyone keeps telling me “Oh this is African dog, they’re used to it.” NO…a dog is a dog, it doesn’t matter what country they’re from they still need the same care, love and attention every animal deserves.

Imagine if we were talking about starving babies and I said “oh they’re an African baby, they’re used to it” I would have hell to pay … and rightly so … but you see what I’m trying to get at here. 

All animals, like humans, deserve the right to live their lives free from suffering and exploitation. Period.

Wish you were here XOXO

Growing up too fast

Desperate for drivers loose change

 Most primary school children are busy learning to tie their shoes, lusting after the latest gizmo to hit the toy shelves and generally just being their annoying little selves, but sadly this is not the case for all.

Every day I see kids robbed of their childhood, working the streets selling anything they can get their hands on, risking being road kill as they dodge traffic to beg passengers for pennies or taking care of younger siblings while mum hustles to put food in their tummies.  

Today I was sat on the tro tro (tin on wheels) when a bunch of school kids piled on the bus. A young girl no older than eight sat in front of me with, who I presumed to be, her little sister who looked about four or five.

Sticking together while mums away

They both had matching blue uniforms, ruck sacks and gold clip-on earrings. The youngest made herself comfy on her sister’s knee while she dug out a large red purse from the pit of her sack. It was clear she made the journey regularly as she told the “mate” (money man) her stop and counted out the exact change.

In the UK alarm bells would start ringing if you spotted little people wondering the streets, hopping on public transport unaccompanied by an adult, but here it’s the norm. While they look happy as Larry going about their daily business I can’t help thinking where there mummy is.

Heavy goods on little heads

I have witnessed boys as young as 10 or 11 working the tro tro’s, hanging out doors touting for customers and I watch their muscles flex as they heave the heavy metal door shut. What’s more disturbing is their triceps are bigger than most boys my age.

When I first arrived to do my internship I stepped out of the car to be greeted by a young girl named Georgia, who immediately started hauling my suitcases (which both donned attractive orange heavy stickers) out of the boot.

Kids work these rusty wagons

I tried to tell her it was okay and take them off her as she proceeded towards the stairs, but she wasn't having any of it. I later learned she was 11 and even my dad had complained when lugging these cases down the stairs but I didn’t hear so much as a peep from this little lady.

Georgia & Bernice having fun

It turned out Georgia and her four-year-old cousin Bernice came from a rural village and were being looked after and sent to school by our host. However she was also appeared to be the cleaner, the water fetcher and the general run-around.

They both longed for fun and would tug on my arm for my iPhone every chance they got. When I skived off work I had never seen Georgia so excited, she ran into my room and told me she would be my lookout.

Escorting the blind to beg 

One day she jumped out on me and she frightened the life out of me. We both fell on the floor laughing but later on I heard her getting yelled at. I pleaded with our host that we were just playing a game but the sadness in Georgia’s big brown eyes was heart breaking. 

While I couldn't help but feel sad I reminded myself they were much better off there. 

So next time your child, niece, nephew, sibling or any other little one for that matter has a tantrum because they wanted the purple lolly and not the blue, remind them just how lucky they are. 

I give children my spare change where I can, admittedly to make myself feel less guilty more than anything, but hey every penny counts. 

Wish you were here XOXO

Do you believe in God? (Part 2)

New Years Eve 

For those of you who know me, you will often find me falling, or being kicked out, of clubs at some ridiculous hour and New Years Eve is no different, if not worse. But not this year. No this year I spent my evening at the Accra sports stadium.

What was I doing there you ask, raving at a concert perhaps? No. I was  being led in worship, along with 40,000 others, by a pastor to crossover into 2014, drinking a thimble of wine and eating dissolvable paper (meant to stand for bread).

It was an experience like no other I have ever had and honestly I actually found it quite uplifting. In the fifteen minutes leading up to the clock striking twelve we were instructed to pray for all the things we wanted in the new-year. So I closed my eyes and began to think.

Suddenly the stadium erupted into a ripple of chants. I opened my eyes and everyone was waving their hands in the air, dancing and shouting their prayers. Their eyes were closed so tight and their fists were thrusting with so much passion you could tell these people wanted their prayers to come true more than anything in the world.

The explosion of Christianity in Africa has meant the number of churches in Ghana has been doubling every 12 years. Many argue the proliferation of churches in the country is gradually undermining Christianity. People are calling themselves men of God when they have no understanding of the roles of such men and it would seem taking advantage of their position

Some colleagues told me about a church congregation that was being broadcast on television. A woman had come forward complaining of a pain in her breast. The pastor asked the woman to take out her breast (on live TV), which she did and he performed some sort of spiritual healing on it using his hands. Now one has to question the morals and motives of this man of God.

One of thousands of chruches

Sadly churches are increasingly becoming a commodity. Pastors are no longer solely interested in getting people to Heaven; they’ve devised intelligent ways to make good money while reaching out to souls to pay for their fleets of cars. 

And while the bible expressly states that salvation is free, at times it comes with a cost: offerings, tithes, gifts to spiritual leaders, and a directive to buy literature and other products created by men of God.

It is sad to think vulnerable souls, desperate for financial breakthroughs, miracles and healing, who all rush to the church for redemption are being taken advantage of. But I like to think this is only a very small minority. Step out of your front door on a Sunday and the streets are near to empty, pretty much the entire population of Ghana is at church or at least following a ceremony on television or the radio.

While I admire their faith and respect their beliefs and join in the odd prayer now and again I don’t think I will be becoming a fully-fledged Christian any time soon. People thank God for their success and while that’s all well and fine (each to their own), I thank my parents for giving me a fabulous upbringing and a fantastic start in life oh and of course myself, for working bloody well hard. 

Wish you were here xoxo

Do you believe in God? (Part 1)

God is great

Do you believe in God? It’s a tricky question for me. I like the idea God exists and that there is a heaven etc but then the realist in me rears its ugly head and my belief in evolution takes over.

When I was little my friend and I would write a prayer to God asking for our parents to let us have a sleepover. We would put the prayers in our ‘magic’ jewellery box, turn the wind up key and cross all our fingers and toes. Since those days I have never really prayed to the big guy in the sky.

Religion is everywhere in Ghana, primarily Christianity; if it’s not a church on every street corner, it’s advertising for church on a billboard at every crossroad, if it’s not a preacher on the bus, it’s a van spreading the message with a megaphone. There is no hiding from it. Ghana has been rated one of the most religious countries in the world. 

It’s amazing just how much faith Ghanaians have. One day my boyfriend woke with severe head pains (which later turned out to be an ear infection). He told his mum about the pain and I was fully expecting her to tell him to go get it checked by the doctor, but no, she told him to pray to God and she would do the same.

One of a billion billboards

I thought this was very bizarre and honestly quite stupid but at the same time it really opened my eyes to just how much these people believe in the powers of God.

 For many Ghanaians faith and religion gives them something to hold on. When every day is a struggle the world can become a very lonely place and if God can help people overcome that then I don’t have a problem with it.

People over here constantly ask me if I believe in God. I tell them that, well, I have been christened but I don’t practice the religion and nor do any of my family. “You don’t go to church?!” is always the response I get, some in more accusing tones than others. 

One girl actually told me she thought it was “f***ing disgusting” (not a very Godly thing to say if you ask me.) I respect everyone’s right to believe in whatever religion they chose so surely I deserve respect for choosing not to practise one?

Offending article

On my first trip to Ghana I had packed a t-shirt that had a cross on one side and an upside down cross on the other with the world love written under it. It didn't even cross my mind I was buying a top that suggested I love the devil, nor that it might offend anyone, it just looked good.

So you can imagine my shock when I put it on and my roommate told me, again, it was "“f***ing disgusting and needs burning”. It’s safe to say I took it off immediately and buried it to the bottom of my case. After all I was in their country and the last thing I wanted to do was offend anyone or draw any more attention to myself.

I have recently moved accommodation and it would appear I have an extremely religious neighbour. I awoke one morning to hear a rather aggressive chant coming through the wall it went something along the lines of, “In the name of Jesus I give you fire”. Put it this way it didn't sound like a particularly pleasant prayer to me. 

Like it wasn’t bad enough that it was 6am, and half an hour BEFORE my alarm was due, I walk outside to see said neighbour spraying my living room with wine while chanting his prayer. I think this was meant to protect us from evil spirits but I couldn’t help thinking the opposite.

Being woken by prayers is nothing unusual for me. The all night prayer and song sessions often keep me awake at night and you can certainly forget a lie in on a Sunday. But if you watch the video below I think you will understand why I can let it slide. 

Ghana: Developing country NOT backwards

Happy as Larry with a bag on a string 

As shrieks of children’s laughter rippled in the air around me my smile grew wider as I watched a little boy, no more than six, speeding along as fast as his little legs could carry him, pulling behind him his new prize possession.

I remember the hours of fun my kite had brought me as a kid, putting my fingers through its grooved pink handle and dragging the rainbow painted fabric across the beach until the wind took it soaring up into the sea salt air.

But this little boy’s kite wasn’t coloured, nor did it have a handle, it was a black plastic bag tied to a piece of string. Nevertheless he was running along as if it was the grandest thing in the sky. As I walked parallel to the open gutter I took in the scenery of my new neighbourhood.

Women sat peeling fruit and vegetables, mothers stood bathing their children, one man was weeing by the road side, while another was asleep in a doorway, and children played barefooted on the dirt road. All around me were people making do with what they had and trying their hardest to get by.

Perfect combination

There is a prevailing image of Africa that only shows the continent’s pain and suffering. An abstract picture is painted to us of a distant scary land compromised entirely of warlords, Aids, starving babies and refugee camps. It is pushed on us so much so it becomes difficult to see its true beauty, ingenuity and growth.

Ghana is a developing country not a backwards country. The pure ignorance and, honestly embarrassing, obliviousness of some people in England astounds me.

Upon my first return home people were shocked to hear of my wild nights in Accra’s finest clubs (that would give most night haunts in the UK a run for their money).

Tell me where in England you can sit in a roof terrace bar, in temperatures above 28 degrees, under the stars, sipping Belvedere, while smoking shisha laced with weed and nibbling lobster, shrimp and other fine food you find in the sea? Exactly.

Just last month I found myself cruising across the Atlantic Ocean in a private speed boat which dropped me off at the most luxuriously insane island party. Once on dry land the first words I heard were would you prefer Veuve Clicquot or Moet?

Pretending to be ballin'

I spent the rest of the afternoon shoulder rubbing media moguls, business tycoons and the fiercest fashion designers on the continent. 

Not forgetting jet skiing, cocktail mixing and visiting every buffet/bbq station more times than I should have.

If a positive image of Africa escapes, it is often about wildlife. Any African worth their salt, or anyone who has had the privilege to visit a country in Africa, can tell you that for this to be the singular image of Africa is ridiculous, irresponsible and dangerous. This other side to Africa has always existed and is coming into its own now more than ever.

There is so much life, colour, hope and change in this country I wake up every day feeling lucky to be here. It has such an exciting and infectious energy, each city has its own unique charms. I urge anyone who hasn't already to spread your wings and explore the continents hidden gems waiting patiently to be discovered.

It might surprise you to learn people over here live in brick houses with roofs, drive the latest range rovers and have iPhone 5’s fused to their fingertips. 

So in future, I beg, save yourself some dignity and refrain from making stupidly ridiculous remarks such as “So you don’t live in a mud hut?”or “Oh my god they have nightclubs in Ghana!” and the next person to appear shocked at the prospect we have Wi-Fi please don’t be offended if I punch you in the face.

Wish you were here XOXO

Food Glorious Food

What I wish I had...

 Cast your minds back to Christmas day. As you took that first bite of your succulent sausage wrapped in its blanket of streaky bacon your hangover now seemed like a distant memory. As I woke up, hot and sweaty, with not a Christmas decoration in site, I missed home more than ever as pictures of presents, families and turkeys slowly began to surface on Facebook.

...What I actually had

To cheer me up my boyfriend’s mum had offered to cook a traditional meal for me, fufu and groundnut soup. Fufu has a smooth, kind of slimy, dough like texture to it and is rather tasteless, hence why it sits in the soup, which is a spicy broth with a peanut base.

Ghanaians don’t care much for knives and forks, the right way to eat this dish is to break off some fufu, role it into a ball, use your hand to scoop the soup and aim to get it in your mouth. Yes it as messy as it sounds for the inexperienced fufu eaters.

So excited for pizza!!!

The only thing in our fridge that day was a few bags of water (yes you read that correct, bags not bottles) so when I finally heard a knock at the door later that afternoon I couldn’t get to my feet quick enough. As the pots and pans were placed down I couldn’t wait for the lids to be removed, but when they did my heart sank.

What lay in front of me can only be described as, well I will let you make up your own minds, (see picture above right) and on this occasion it was served with goat meat... I have no words to describe my hatred for, in my opinion, the putrid taste of goat.

Cheesy piece of heaven

But I have always been taught not to judge a book by its cover so I took a deep breath, rolled my fufu, scooped my soup and cautiously manoeuvred my hand to my mouth, most of which had escaped through my fingers and down my face by the time it got there. It was very nerve racking moment in my life as all eyes were on me waiting eagerly for my reaction.

Condensed milk sticks 

Put it this way while you were asking to be passed the gravy the only thing I was asking to be passed was the sick bucket. I felt truly awful as Daron’s mum had slaved all morning over the dish but unfortunately it just wasn’t for me. Daron knew straight away I didn’t like it but I gave him an icy look that said do not say a word as I smiled and nodded at his lovely mum. I managed three mouthfuls before giving in.

The minute she left I tore open the melted Lindt chocolate balls my mum had sweetly hidden in my case and scoffed every one. My boyfriend felt really bad so to make up for things he took me out for pizza and drinks. Never in my entire life has that cheesy piece of heaven tasted so good.

Yummy Scrummy Indomie 

I find the resourcefulness of Ghanaians both fascinating and inspiring. They will literally make a meal out of anything. From condensed milk sticks, to dried fish, to fried plantain chips there is something for every food junkie on the streets of Accra. Although the thought of eating dried fish that has been sat in a see through plastic box, basking in the sunlight all day, has got ‘day spent on the toilet’ written all over it in my eyes.

To make living cheaper I eat a lot of food that is prepared on the street. A personal, unhealthy, favourite of mine is Indomie, Ghana’s answer to Supernoodles, but so, so much better. The cooked noodles are fried with a mixture frankfurters, corned beef, sardines, eggs, salad and chili powder. I know what you’re thinking but trust me this stuff is literally amazing. At home I wouldn’t go within 10 meters of tinned meat, never mind actually eating it, but as I always say …. when in Ghana!

My Shito and scrambled egg

The condiment of choice over here is hot pepper sauce, otherwise known as ‘Shito’. Although it does have a resemblance of shit this is not the reason for its name and it certainly tastes far from it (not that I have tried poo). This spicy delight literally goes with everything, I even put it with my scrambled egg, which brings me on to my next subject, breakfast.

After a heavy night on the tiles there is nothing we all love more than tucking into a fat, greasy, heart attack inducing fry up. During my internship my friends and I thought it would be a good idea to play out on a school night. As we grinded and dutty wined into the early hours there is no surprise we slept through our 6am alarm. Already late we decided to hunt for food on our way to work.

Not a patch on Greggs

My mouth began to water as I read the menu consisting of, what I thought to be, the standard breakfast ingredients and I eagerly placed my order.  As the waitress put the plate down my smile slowly faded as I stared horrified at what was in front of me. The bacon was GREY, the sausages were square and clearly mechanically made and the five individual beans came in a pot the size of my thumb. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.

England should take note!

I left feeling even worse than when I arrived but when I finally got to work there was a little present waiting on my desk. On inspection it looked like a sausage roll so I asked my colleague what it was and he simply replied “meat pie”. As I took my first bite it was far from a Greggs. The bright pink meat staring back at me was enough to put me off. Not wanting to look ungrateful I waited until the coast was clear and slid it in the bin.

As well as the local food joints Accra is bursting at the seams with fine dining hotspots , Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Sushi, you name it Accra has got it. And no city would ever be complete without a few KFCs.

Attempting to be healthy

Now let me tell you, these are no ordinary KFCs. While they may not offer the superb side of gravy they totally make up for it in other ways. Not only do they DELIVER, you also get the option to have your chicken hot and crispy or original and the popcorn chicken comes with a sachet of zinger sprinkles. And to top it off when you opt to dine in you even get it served to you on a plate. What more could you ask for?

Best beef on the street

My willpower to eat healthy is tested daily and it doesn’t always win. One day my boyfriend and I were passing through his old neighbourhood on our way to work. Daron suddenly sat up in his seat, practically licking the window, and ordered our driver to stop. “Yooooooo this guy does the best meat in town mannnn”, he shouted, while excitedly pointing to an old guy prodding his home made BBQ.

Finest ribs in town

Before I knew it he had jumped out of the car and returned with a rather large black, plastic bag with a meaty smell wafting from it. He seemed rather pleased with himself so I didn’t ask questions. When we finally arrived at the office we had been locked out so to pass the time we decided to climb up to the roof.

I cautiously opened the bag to find countless strips of spicy coated meat wrapped in newspaper. I asked him what meat it was and he simply shrugged. If there is one thing I have learnt about eating local style the key is to not ask questions and don’t think about what you are eating. Just try it, chew it and hope you can swallow it. Nine times out of ten you will be pleasantly surprised. (My mother was totally horrified at the prospect I could have been consuming cat or dog.)

As I looked over the roof tops of Accra I pondered for a moment. If you told me several months ago that today I would be sat on a roof in Africa, eating unidentifiable meat out of a plastic bag, I would have laughed in your face. But the truth is, at that moment, I could not have been any happier.

That being said, it all boils down to this, no matter how many times I have been ‘pleasantly’ surprised you won’t find me asking ‘please sir, can I have some more’ any time soon!

Wish you were here XOXO