The madness of life

In the village of Sikakrom, nothing ever truly happened in silence. Even when the wind blew gently through the baobab trees, you could hear Auntie Akos shout, "Ei! Wind paa nie? Someone is sweeping the ancestors' courtyard!"

It was a small village with big mouths, bigger dreams, and the biggest appetite for gossip this side of the Pra River.

On a Tuesday morning market day, mind you Kwadwo Kabelɛ, the local radio operator, decided to share some "very important news." He climbed on top of the broken community centre roof with his megaphone.

"Testing one-two, testing one-two! Good people of Sikakrom, listen well o!"

As usual, nobody listened.

They were too busy bargaining over kontomire, accusing market women of putting stones in tomatoes, and pretending not to see their debtors.

"I said!" Kabelɛ shouted again, adjusting his faded Manchester United jersey. "The gods have spoken! A prophecy has returned!"

At that, Madam Mansa the fishmonger dropped her tilapia like it had come alive.