I had a house in Africa*


I had a house in Africa…

Not “a farm at the foot of the Ngong hills”, as Karen Blixen, though I did go to the hills later. (“But that, Best Beloved” is another story.)

It was a simple house by the West African sea. A concrete jetty pointing North. The sun rose every day to the right and set to the left. My father taught me the cardinal points there. To this day, when I look for the North, I see the open African sea.

African fishing boats went by. Triangular “Latin sails” flapping in the wind. Schools of dolphins would jump in and out of the water, East to West, right to left, but a few hundred yards away.

Sometimes dozens of Ghanean canoes went by racing. They had golden oars. Chanting as they raced along.

The concrete jetty was our launching…

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