CHAPTER 5KOFI CAME BACK AT LAST with the news that Kumase was ready for us and, what’s more, that he had found us an apartment in the center of town. He had sent Kwabena to stay with friends of his.
The first bus to arrive in the morning brought a load of handicapped people, complete with wheelchairs, crutches and white sticks. They were coming for a working holiday, to a conference to discuss their needs and, as one voluble delegate told me, their potential contribution to society.
We took their bus up the hill and then a motor rickshaw to a terminus in Kumase, still called a lorry station, though there were no lorries in sight. Lorry, by the way, is British for a truck. Kumase was like a ghost town. It reminded me of places in our own Abandoned Territories. I remember wondering whether
