Zalia
“Akwaaba.” I smiled at the customs officer who had just finished checking our luggage. “That means welcome right?” Nigel asked when we exited the building and stepped into the heat of the typical Accra afternoon.
“Yes. I feel like I’m melting here, I’ve forgotten just how hot Ghana can be.” Nigel wiped his face which was already full of sweat while I checked to make sure the car we rented was ready for us. “You look like you went for a swim instead of simply walked around.” He shot me a glare before attempting to fan himself with his hands.
“You’ll only make things worse, you’ll still be hot and you’ll be tired just stay put, we’ll be in an air-conditioned car soon enough.”
“Easy for you to say, you grew up here, it’s easier for you to adjust. I feel like I’m melting, thankfully
