Ha! I have seen more things than I’ve not seen in this
Ghana, in this place . I’ve seen rats chase lions. I’ve seen the sun at midnight. I’ve seen empty coffins fall out of the sky. I was here the year the Accra Volta turned orange, but I’d never seen a train coffin until Ashong decided to die. Ha! Yes. Ashong is such a rich and powerful man, himself decided when he was ready to go. God had little to do with it.
Now when I die, a Volkswagen is enough for me. Been in the world seventy-three years, all I own fits into a suitcase—a big suitcase, hear me, but a suitcase. I’ll be wearing my only suit I own that I bought in
France—that bad time in chasing after that ex wife of mine. I got a hat the wind and rain shaped to look like a bundle a woman carries on her head, two pick axes from my days in the mines, a paper sack of my mot’dears’s glass beads and a signed photograph of the Queen that my last employer gived me instead of all my salary. My Brother Ashong owns—owned a farm and two wives. France
“Elijah, you are a mole on the planet’s ass. I am the fists,” Ashong said to me when we were young roosters.
The Blue Train to Heaven