Free Ipods in Accra by Sophia Acheampong Page A

from when I wore shorts on our first day. I wouldn’t do that again.
    â€˜Oh, I nearly forgot. Nick did call the day you left, just to check that you’d arrived OK.’
    â€˜Really?’ I squeaked. Ohmigod! I had just squeaked at the mention of the boy’s name. How sad was I? I’d had a text from him the previous day and had replied, which cost loads but it was worth the extortionate price. It would have been even better if I hadn’t left my charger at home, which meant I had to turn my phone off most of the time to save power. Nick had never mentioned that he’d called Dad. How sweet was he?
    â€˜Yeeess, Makeeda, is that important?’
    â€˜Nah, it’s just Nick,’ I said.
    â€˜Hmm …’ Dad responded.
    My parents didn’t know about Nick yet. In fact, no one did, apart from Bharti and Tanisha. Nick and I had only seen each other one more time before I had left for Ghana, when he returned my iPod with songs he’d downloaded for me.
    After nearly a year of nagging, Mum and Dad finally bought me an iPod. It was meant to be an early present for my exams. Initially they told me to save up for it myself but that took too long. I mean, how would I save money when I wasalready budgeting for the latest clothing, jewellery and CDs? Nick said I could listen to it during long journeys across Ghana, and I told him I would need it to block out Delphina.
    We only snatched a brief kiss before I left which became a hug, as Delphy almost caught us.
    It was weird being away from him just as we’d started out. But a few weeks apart was probably what we needed to think about what we were doing. We were both really conscious of potentially ruining a perfectly good friendship. Plus, Nick quite sternly told me that he didn’t want to be my rebound guy, which was fair, as I knew I needed time to adjust to not being Nelson’s girlfriend and being Makeeda again.
    â€˜Dad, have I had any letters or packages?’ Delphina said, grabbing the phone from me.
    â€˜No, Delphina, and I hope you’re not up to anything,’ he said sternly.
    â€˜I … I ordered a CD. It hadn’t arrived by the time we left. I just wanted to know if it had arrived,’ Delphina said quickly.
    I looked at my little sister. There was something shifty in her demeanour. There was no way she’d buy something to be delivered after we’d left the country. It’s something I’d do, but not Delphy. My sister was pretty organised.
    â€˜Makeeda, I’m sorry I can’t be there for your ceremony,’ Dad said. ‘You know I’m proud of you for deciding to go ahead with it.’
    It felt strange doing something so important without Dad being around, but I knew with Uncle Raj’s retirement there was no way Dad could afford to leave his business.
    â€˜Yeah, it’s a shame, but then you’d probably be in a bar or catching up with your cousins, anyway!’
    â€˜Cheeky!’ Dad said, laughing. ‘You’re right, though, I would …’ he added wistfully.
    We said our goodbyes to Dad. All that was left for us to do was to pack and say our farewells to our Accra relatives and settle down for a good night’s sleep.
    Kumasi, where Nana-Amma lived, was a three-hour drive away. Nana-Amma had sent her car to pick us up. When Delphy asked why we couldn’t fly there, Mum told us that if we drove we’d see more of Ghana. She wasn’t wrong. The Kumasi-Accra road was mainly tarmac but where it wasn’t, our rear ends felt it. The road was lined with dense, dark green forest – Mum said that was why Kumasi was known as the Garden City. Occasionally we’d pass Chinese road workers, who’d often wave to us. We passed farms with fields of corn. Corn was grown everywhere, even in people’s gardens. The best part was passing through the villages, where sometimes we stopped off to buy freshly fried yam chips and pepper sauce