A PLACE CALLED + 233

Reader, I have a seemingly insoluble problem like all parents and husbands, I desire to go home at the earliest opportunity after close of services, but poor me, I live at a place, Accra West, where traffic moves even slower than a tortoise.

Believe you me, the other day, we spent THREE HOURS from Odorkor traffic light to Mallam Junction, tell me, even millipede will not take that time to cover that short one kilometer distance.

In order not to consume precious hours just sitting in the car sleeping, enduring traffic, I usually spend the time, when I have the resources to go to a joint, and see whether I can battle some points of alcohol (I hope my doctor is not reading this)

My usual regular corner, for the sake of security is the Retired Commissioned Officers’ Club where we the gallant men of old, yesterday’s generals, usually congregate to do things common to grey hairs and aged bones.

I usually saunter in there within one of these NPP constituency scribes who keeps bugging me that there is an exclusive quiet joint not too far away, equally sublime and very content for characters of my ilk.

I succumbed to pressure, and for once on Wednesday, 12 October 2011, circa 2100 hours, instead of joining the compulsory millipede convey at Mallam highway, I later meandered past the old mobil now Total filling station opposite GBC and entered the former jazz base now curiously called + 233!!!

Reader, the scare that greets you when you enter that enclave forces you to check yourself. It seems there is an unwritten law that only cross country 4x4 land cruisers and Nissan patrols, ford KIA and heavy automobiles come there – I counted less than three saloon cars!!!!

What place is this? Rich men’s Club? No, rather I am told a certain former president of Ghana usually misses his way to that corner, to chill over some blue bottles of beverages!!!!

We packed our rickety Nissan Primera car and climb the steps to the balcony floor where I saw a very somber, respectable crowd of revelers enjoying rich khebab and liquor.

With difficulty we formed some table and eased ourselves into it, and there – hold your breadth; what am I seeing?

Inside the bar, I thought I saw a lady with a guitar, a lady at the drums, a lady at the organ – oh- women’s only band!!! In all, led by Dela, singing and rolling out dancing tunes just like any live band you know of.

Wow – this is interesting. Upon enquiries I was told that this happens every Wednesday at + 233 – live band by women only.

We sat there among this privileged crowd, exclusive rich men’s joint, watching the entire ambience, where from no where two of the most beautiful women that I look even seen entered the dancing floor and started to dance – hmmmmmm……..

Soon, they were joined by other equally attractive damsels, each of them highly provocatively caparisoned, dancing in a corner as to dazzle your soul. I saw a cameraman very busy, taking in the whole dance, live, at times the cameraman will send down so low as if to shoot even the under wear of the ladies!!!!

Upon enquiries I was told that the girls were all competitors from the Ghana Most Beautiful TV3 contest and they had come there as part of the show.

Raeder, I was so taken in by the entire atmosphere that before I realised two hours had flown by – is it not better that sweating in traffic? I left +233 and their executive limousines and within twenty minutes I was at home, telling my father in law’s daughter that today the “board meeting” lasted longer than usual!!!!!