Follow a young woman from D.C to Ghana on her journey of adventure, love, humor, sadness, and learning how to overcome life’s hurdles.  Stay tuned, a new story will be posted each week.

Did You Miss Part 1 , Through 6  –  Click the links Below

PART 1                 PART 2                 PART 3              PART 4 

PART 5                 PART 6

Salutations Family, I hope everyone is well. This will be the final “Ghana in Transit” on, and I hope you all have enjoyed it. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing for this website, and can’t wait to continue the series on another platform. This final story is one of my most memorable moments in Ghana.  Initially studying in Ghana for just one month, this experience happened my second week, and was the beginning of my first Ghana love affair. Names have been altered a bit (they always are) but everything else is exactly as I experienced it. Tho this is the final story on this website, The stories  continuation is inevitable. If you are in the D.M.V area please come out to a live reading/one woman show featuring writing from “Ghana in Transit” and yours truly. The address is below.

Bossa Bistro and Lounge:
2463 18 St NW, Washington, DC 20009
I have so much to share. Enjoy this humorous read, and don’t forget to drop a comment and follow me on IG @mechekorrect.

Love you much, and power to the universe.


                                                                                                              Part 7: Anim

A mountain man named Anim Kosovo tried to ruin me. Dancing into my life like a tarnished wind, the brotha told me he loved me next to an oil tank at Reggie Rockstone’s “The Office.” I believed him. I was 22 and obviously deranged because for some strange reason I believed that true love could be found at a night club after four shots of tequila and a little bit of Brown.

I was thrashing my body all over the dance floor clapping like only a D.C girl could when I dipped too low and lost my damn earring. A gold and purple spaceship type of affair, that earring was the only thing keeping me from floating into the star spattered skies. My toes weren’t painted. I had on cheap sandals and a borrowed top! That earring was the most insanely feminine artifact I could maneuver. I had brought it at a boutique on Charles Street, one of the cute black owned ones that is crammed between a barbershop and a halal market. That wasn’t the only thing I had brought on that particular day, but it was the most long lasting, and I be damned if I was going to lose it in an overpacked, overheated club in Accra, Ghana.  

ghana in transit, black excellence, travel to african, travel to ghana
Me wearing the earring in question. Shot by Tashika Hicks. Circa 2011

Fanning my hands blindly between people’s feet, I stopped dancing and clumsily searched for the earring on the filthy club floor. Soft cotton trousers brushed. Sweat hardened jeans scratched as I knelt in the midst of the club. I was trying hard not to touch an offending crotch or even a sweaty thigh! I was within eye and nose shot of the bawdy colognes and strappy stilettos, but all I was thinking about was the happiness that would flood my heart upon spotting the beautiful earring next to someone’s big toe.

Standing up sloppily and leaning against the wall, I remembered that I had stored a nice fat jay in my bra and contemplated going outside to smoke it. Indiscreetly digging my hand inside the stiff purple bra beneath my tank top, I felt around for the jay that wasn’t really there…wait a minute. You mean to tell me I had lost my dank and my earring at the same time? “This isn’t happening.” Kneeling down again I began to fan my hands across the floor with more gusto, spotting a long white object, I smiled triumphantly and reached for what I assumed was my jay. Nahhhhh it was a straw. humph!

Curling my lip in disgust I was about to stand up for good, when someone grabbed my arm and asked me in a somewhat obnoxious manner “What are you looking for?” It was too dark to match face to voice, but hand latched onto arm and pulled aggressively. “Come outside with me?” the mysteriously masculine voice began to pull me out of the club, and me being as tipsy as I was, I didn’t complain. Stepping out of the mahogany brown doors, I felt the cool air hit my sweat stained face and I breathed in long and deep. Looking down at feet, I didn’t look up and acknowledge my companions face until I didn’t have a choice.  
ghana in transit, black excellence, travel to african, travel to ghana


He was handsome in a normal type of way I decided immediately. Big pretty eyes, smooth dark skin, a charming smile to boot, I take that back.. the brotha was fine! Realizing I was leaning in too close, I took two steps back and looked at him expectantly. I was tipsy but I wasn’t foolish. “Why did you grab me chaley?” I asked haughtily as I stared at him through my lashes “I don’t know you and you don’t know me so abeg please tell me what gave you the right to put your hands on me.”

Taking another step backwards for good measure, I scanned my surroundings and realized we weren’t the only ones on the outside of the club. Nestled between an assortment of trees on a quite road, “The Office” was the place to be on a Saturday night if you were young and trying to gyrate your body in a sea full of people.  It’s location afforded its party goers with a bit more privacy than the average club, so it was not uncommon for people to sneak in the back and smoke marijuana or take shots of some mysterious liquor out of suspicious brown bottles.

Couples were kissing in the shadows, meshing their bodies together under the guise of night. I diverted my attention back to the brother in front of me, and realized that he had been watching me intensely. Realizing what he was probably thinking in his beautiful perverted skull, I took another step backwards. “Why you keep moving away from me?” He asked with his palms outstretched and a gleam in his eye, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Snickering under my breath, I glanced at the sky and then looked him square in the face. “How do I know that, huh? You could be crazy or extremely ridiculous and I wouldn’t even know.”  

Cheesing like a cheshire cat, the brotha gripped my forearm and tried to pull me closer. Yanking my arm back I sucked my teeth and proceeded to roll my eyes when he said “Why you so hostel? I can’t touch you?” Hell no he couldn’t touch me! I screamed inside of my head. “Absolutely not” I said in a firm tone. Still grinning like a mad man, the brotha moved three steps forward and said “What’s your name?” I wanted to tell him that I was nameless but I remembered what little manners I had left, and mumbled inaudibly “Efia Nyame-ky3..and before you ask boss, yes! I know what it means.”  

ghana in transit, black excellence, travel to african, travel to ghana
Accra at night.

My name had been a common interest among most of the Ghanaians I had come into contact with, probably because it was so distinctively Ghanaian and rolled off the tongue like a prayer. “Efia Nyame-Ky3 Efia..Efia Nyame-Ky3” the brotha said as he tasted my name in his mouth softly, “I love your name…..I love you.” Was this guy serious? Shaking my head in disbelief, I couldn’t help but laugh crudely in his face “You don’t even know me” I said with a sneer and a snap of the neck “how you gonna love somebody you’ve never met sir?”

When I asked this question, I realized that he had been  gripping my wrist in a death grip. “I don’t know” he said, “who told you I don’t love you…who? anybody who negates my love for you can confront me!” Ok wait..just wait, this entire situation was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. “Ok look heah” I said slipping into my regional dialect “I don’t even know ur name bruh, and I know how ya’ll do in Gh! You tell women you love them so that you can fuck. Now I’m not trying to be the bearer of bad news or anything, but I am not a hoe! I don’t know you, I don’t love you, and if you don’t get your hands off of me i’m gonna earl tha shit outta you.”

Pounding my fist in my palm for extra emphasis, it was obvious that my outburst didn’t affect him in the least. Bridging the remaining gap between us, the brotha quickly leaned into my neck and kissed it swiftly. “My name is Anim, and you have to be the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met Efia Nyame-Ky3, If you don’t mind I would love to take you out sometime?” I was in shock! how in the hell could somebody be so thick brained? Was I tripping? Taking a moment to truly observe my surroundings, I realized that we were standing next to a silver oil tank that had apparently taken up permanent residence in the parking lot, and that Anim had on red loafers with black tassels.

Diverting my attention back to his face, I said “Look boss I got to go back to my umm yeah, bye!” I swiftly pulled my body away from his and proceeded to walk back into the club. Switching like Loretta Divine in Waiting to Exhale, I could feel his gaze permeating my floral top.  I muttered under my breath, “I hope he’s not looking.” As smoothly as I could, I gave one of those backwards i’m-pulling-a-creak-out-my-neck turn around to see if he was indeed looking at me and I met his sharp gaze. “mhmm,” I said under my breath “He’s definitely looking.”


  1. Carrie Lucas-Summer in the streets
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Nyame-kye Kondo is a multifaceted artist from Washington D.C. She is a singer, writer, and an all around creator.