Ipods in Accra Read Online Free PDF

I said, walking out.
    At least Mum and Dad weren’t too bothered if I didn’t go ahead with the puberty ceremony. I actually felt lighter for having told them. It was one less thing to worry about.

Chapter 5
The Unexpected

    I jumped out of the shower and headed to my room. It felt great to have the house to myself for a change! Well, almost. Dad was around, but he didn’t really count when it came to competing for the bathroom or mirror. I’d managed to squeeze in some English lit revision after finally finishing my science coursework. My ntoma was hung up on my wardrobe door freshly ironed. We had to leave at seven p.m. for Aunt Grace’s Ghana Independence party. Recently we’d been getting really good with our timekeeping. Unfortunately, this just meant we were early everywhere, as everyone else was on GMT (Ghanaian Mean Time) and running at least two hours late!
    Aunt Grace had organised a Ghanaian Independence Day party but it was taking place two months after 6th March because she couldn’t book a hall in time. She wanted to raise money for children’s charities in the UK and Ghana. Unlike all the other parties, this one was aimed at young people. Afua and I were more than a bit suspicious at this, especially when Aunt Grace said, ‘It will be good for all of you young Ghanaians to get to know each other.’ There was a glint in her eye.
    The only upside was that there were guaranteed to be some celebrities there, including a premiership football player and a TV presenter. When their agents replied that they’d be happy to attend and even be our MCs for the night, we were in shock for days! It meant we could up the ticket price by five pounds. Their presence also meant that everyone our age would show up and not think it was just another function for oldies, masquerading as a party for Ghanaian youth. Afua and I helped Aunt Grace organise the event in between our revision, but Mum and Dad took over the really involved stuff a month ago.
    When Aunt Grace ran the DJ list past us, Afua and I began laughing hysterically. There was no way a DJ who only played pop and didn’t have a clue about the latest download hits would work at this party. We told Aunt Grace she needed to find someone with a music library that had the latest UK urban music, and Hip-Life, an African version of hip-hop. I would’ve suggested Nelson, but he wasn’t allowed to DJ until his last exam had been sat. So we had a DJ from the local African radio station.
    â€˜Makeeda, you’ve got twenty minutes to get ready!’
    â€˜OK, Dad,’ I yelled back. Twenty flipping minutes indeed!
    There was no way I was going to be ready in twenty minutes! It took me, on average, ten to decide which jewellery to wear and then another twenty to apply my make-up. This could include tinted moisturiser, but Mum forbade me to wear foundation till I was twenty. She has a theory that too much make-up when you’re young causes wrinkles later on. I didn’t mind too much as I was nearly sixteen and she’d has eased up and actually shown me how to apply it properly. She gave me a funny look the last time I put eye-shadow on, but it was hardly my fault if it didn’t look quite right – she should have shown me how to do it ages ago.
    â€˜Makeeda, ten minutes!’
    â€˜No way, Dad! Only two minutes have gone by!’
    â€˜Are you arguing with me?’
    I wanted to scream yes, but it came out as a mumble that turned into a no.
    An hour later, Dad and I arrived at the venue – a hall in Harrow. It had recently been refurbished and had cream walls and wood flooring, with a stage on the left and huge windows which had been decorated with Ghanaian flags. There were tables near the stage for the quiz later and some extra chairs and tables dotted around the room. All the tables had balloons floating in Ghana’s colours – red, green and yellow.
    As soon as Mum spotted me, she gave