One of the perks of living in Accra is the nightlife. One of the drawbacks is its open-gutter system. I happen to experience both last Friday.
My colleagues and I started our night at Champs, a super Americanized, karaoke and sports bar where you can order delux nachos and Long Island Ice Teas. My Ghanaian friends met our group around midnight and escorted us to a nearby club named Twist.
Twist is one of the few nightclubs in Accra comparable to an upscale New York City lounge. Though it isn't my scene (I'm a Lower East Side kind of girl), it was a refreshing change of pace.
For one night, everything felt a little like home. The lights. The fashion. The cheesy 80s music. Those sleek leather couches. But Ghana refused to let me escape reality for too long. My Cinderella escapades expired as I stepped out of the car across from my house at 4 a.m.
I slipped on the rubble at the brim of the sidewalk and propelled myself face-first into Ghana's open-gutter system. The side of my head hit the rounded cement edge, and my left forearm and knee braced my fall. I think I lost consciousness for a second because it took my friend's panicked scream to realize I was laying in the gutter. Fortunately, the sewer bed was relatively dry--padded only with fallen leaves and light mud.
My friends pulled me out and sat me down the ground. They hyperventilated as they quickly blotted my bloody knee with a small tissue, failing to notice the much scarier woozy head. I nervously laughed. I poured some hand sanitizer from my purse on the wounds and left to take a shower.
A little embarrassed and a little scarred, I survived just fine.
Did I mention Ghana is having a cholera outbreak? No worries. I outlived the incubation period. Yes, I checked.