CHAPTER 8A BLACK MERCEDES BENZ DROVE up. The guards unlocked the gate and it entered the driveway. I was astonished. Many bicycles passed by the bungalow every day but I hadn’t seen a single car in the month that I had been there. I had time to notice that the bodywork was in excellent condition for a car which must have been fifty years old. Its tires were a little worn, but who was I to complain about that; or about the fact that it had no number plate? I shook hands with Kwadwo and apologized for my inability to tip him for his excellent service to me. The guards in the garden waved, friendly for the first time since my arrival. They must have been pleased and relieved to see the back of me. Soon I was ensconced in the ancient leather seat, sandwiched between two men. I greeted them but
