I'll go and come

That, right there, is one of the most versatile phrases in Ghanaian English. And tonight we saw it used to its fullest extent.

Basically, "I'll go and come" is equivalent to US English's "I'll be back" or "I'll see you later." However, it is a very commonly used phrase, almost to the extent of "dude", as in the following, classic Bud Light commercial. (Email and RSS subscribers, this clip might not show up for you.)



Tonight we all decided to go to the Coconut Grove Regency Resort in Accra for a night of salsa dancing and drinks. Fun times. Of course, as so often happens with our group, there were five of us going, and cabs in Accra only (barely) fit four people. Drivers will attempt to charge a higher price when they have to take on excess passengers, as there are often Ghana Police Service checkpoints at night to make sure no cabs are breaking the law.

In any case, we've been here awhile, and we negotiate a reasonable price with the driver (six cedis to Sankara Overpass--maybe 20 minutes' drive) and hop in. As luck would have it, a security checkpoint happens upon us. Now, the Ghana Police Service doesn't appear to do much, aside from carrying LED torches--and AK-47s. Our driver, quite reasonably, pulls over and politely reminds us that we are too many (or "too menny" as Thomas Hardy would say), so a couple of us get out of the cab to walk past the checkpoint, allow the car through, and then they would get back in the cab after the checkpoint. Simple plan, right?

Not when the pulling over part occurs 20 yards from the checkpoint. We pull up and the police officer basically utters the Ghanaian equivalent of "dude" (seriously, watch that video above), to which the driver replies his Ghanaian equivalent of "dude"--and they actually let us drive through (possibly because we were obrunis).

After driving through the driver pulls over to pick up the walkers--who happened to be the women in the group--and says that the police want a "dash" (bribe). Dude.

Me, riding shotgun: "Uhhh, so do we have to pay them or something?"

Driver: "Oh no, I told him I would go and come." -grins-

Duuuude.

So we pick up our remaining passengers--yes, nothing sketchy either about picking up "random" obruni women on the street--and continue on our way, without paying the bribe, of course.

About five minutes later we reach a red light at Silver Star Tower (just north of the airport), where the driver exits the cab to check on his tires. (Dude?) Apparently he just bought them today, and wanted to make sure the hubcaps were staying on. Comforting, right?

Anyways, as he steps out, a young man steps up to the windshield and proceeds to spray it and squeegee it--without our asking for it. The driver returns, and asks if I have change to give to the guy. Normally I do have change in my shirt pocket, but tonight I didn't bring any as we were going dancing, and I feel that change ringing around my shirt throws off my (poor excuse for) rhythm. None of us have change readily accessible.

Squeegee guy, reaching his hand into cab: "..."

Driver: "I'll go and come!" -floors it-

The final incident in this cab--yes, we haven't even gotten to the resort yet--was actually kind of my own design. (I rode shotgun as I was the one who had the best idea of where the resort was. So basically in-country knowledge kind of seals my fate some of the time.) This resort is just past the Sankara Overpass, which is a bridge over Ring Road (basically the Ghanaian equivalent of DC's Beltway, but with wayward goats), and under this bridge is a roundabout. Why there needs to be a roundabout is beyond me. In any case, the resort is a right turn just pass the overpass, but I was not sure if the turn occurred on the entry ramp or just after. Naturally it is safer to (somewhat unlawfully) use the roundabout and get on the entry ramp (which by the way, has a very busy bus stop on it for some reason) to check if the turn is there.

Me: "Okay, so pass straight through the roundabout."

Driver: "Straight through?"

Me: "Yes."

Driver: "Are you sure?"

Me: "Do it." -Driver seems pleased with himself.-

Anyways, we pass through the roundabout, effectively cutting off all roundabout passing through- and entering-traffic.

Other drivers: "DUDE!" -our passengers laughing-

Our driver: -grins- You know he's thinking, "Ah, I'll go and come."

Best six cedis ever.

The Coconut Grove was a happenin' place. It was a salsa and line-dancing night, and I must say I was really surprised and impressed with the quality of the Ghanaian salsa community. I really wonder where they all learned salsa, as I'm not sure if traditional Ghanaian culture--or, at least, the very religious part of it--condones it. Also thought that there would be master-class lessons or something, but people just got right into it. I have taken exactly two salsa lessons in my life: one was for high-school Spanish so it doesn't count, and the other was for an undergrad spring formal, where most everyone else was too inebriated to care about my wildly flailing appendages. (In my defense, I have taken like six swing lessons, and I am quite proud of the four (and a half) moves that I can do in endless permutations in such a way that people who have had a couple drinks don't realize that I only have four (and a half) moves. So hah. Mad real-world skill right there.) Did I just double-embed parentheses in that last sentence? Oh yes I did. To sum: No, I did not gather the courage to ask a young lady to salsa. Probably better for both parties.

Oh, I should also note that the dancing occurred on a pool deck around an actual pool. Amazingly, no one fell in, despite the turns, flips and whatever else people were doing.

The line dancing was ... interesting. This party was sponsored by a Ghanaian radio station (99.7?), so it appeared that most people were already familiar with the music and the actual moves. Now this line dancing is not like the Macarena or the Electric Slide for anyone who has attended a wedding in the past 15 years. Nor was it like the Cha-Cha Slide where the moves are called out to you. (How can you mess that up?) Oh no, this line dancing had salsa footwork (okay, doable), but random sets of turns, toe taps, slides and heel flicks. To sum: by the time we got the moves down, the song was over. Probably better for both parties.

There were a lot of people there (maybe 250-350), and quite a few foreigners. We met some nice British high-school students who were helping to build a library for a school about an hour's drive from Accra. Nice people, and they were quite intrigued with the fact that we were from Boston. Also appeared to be a sizeable number of American students at this place.

Anyways, that all ended around 10.30, and we piled into two cabs (two of our members were already there, thus bringing us to seven in total). We again successfully negotiated for a six-cedi ride back home, but our cabs were side-by-side for much of the trip. So we did the "dirty bird" (a couple of team members are masters of this dance move; I will post pictures or a video if I can) while parked at red lights, and called out, in high-pitched voices, "obruni! obruni!" to each other. The cab drivers thought we were hilarious.

So, all in all, not a bad night.