Dancing here is more than merely entertainment. It is life. You must dance to justify your existence. Once I was asked to dance. While I was doing so people started throwing money at me, while others pinned bills on my shirt, all coming to ¢300 (cedis). Then they asked me how much I had spent for gasoline. ‘¢300’, I said. Then they added ¢20 more. So there went my first Ghanian dance, worth ¢320. Any challengers?


Inside the catacomb of St Calixtus in Rome, our guide, an Italian lady who spoke impeccable English, announced, ‘Please stay with your group as there are so many unexplored corridors in these dungeons. As you can see, the fresh bones lying around belong to tourists lost a few years ago.’ Her announcement made our bones shiver.


One of the seminarians who spent his pastoral year with me was Dominic Nyarko Yeboah. In March 2008 he became the first bishop of the Diocese of Techiman in the Brong-Ahafo Region of Ghana. Quite late, during his ordination, I was rushing to the cathedral looking for a set of vestments. I was about to pick up one when Bishop Joseph Kwaku Afrifa-Agyekum of Koforidua spoke from behind, ‘Oh, Father, they’re for the bishops!’ Like a cat jumping off a hot stove, I leapt to the side where the vestments for priests were. ‘Wait your turn,’ said a confrere in consoling words.


In our house in Osonson, Ghana, there is no signal unless one climbs the school at the hill-top. Once at 10:00 in the evening, I was making a call under a cashew tree with my back to the nearby cemetery. Suddenly the strong wind from the north blew and I felt something like a cold hand touching my nape. I jumped at once instinctively thinking it was a ghost from the cemetery. Luckily I landed on the grass and not on a steep stone. Switching on my flashlight, I saw it was a leaf from the cashew tree. With a deep breath and laughter, I found myself cursing the leaf, forgetting the wind. The following morning, I trimmed the tree to avoid such a thing happening again.