This is the umpteenth time I've started writing a post on Facebook and then I realise this post is too long, I might as well put it in a blog post. And almost every single time, it's a true story. I love writing these types of blog posts. Citizen journalism lol. Original content ;-) This post is about women, juicy.
So, my MIT buddy Tawanda was in town visiting Accra while doing some work for McKinsey in Togo. I went out this past Saturday night to Monsoon (I'd never been there before) to meet him and saw my Odadee colleague Yaw too who's also at McKinsey. We had some good convos, I caught up with Tawanda, we talked "women". We disagreed on whether folks should talk to their exes. I maintained that I wouldn't want the situation whereby me and my ex (or anyone for that matter) were not on talking terms. Not me ze Mighty African. When I was leaving Monsoon to go meet my Stanford buddy Ken who was also in town, some dude asked me where I was "going out" tonight. No, I didn't have PartyCrewGh written on my forehead. I gave him a few options but we ended up chatting like for 30 good minutes on entrepreneurship in Ghana. He's UK based and is looking to settle in GH. Surely, he would join the @partycrewgh.
For those of my Party Crew GH friends whose numbers I could remember, I called them to see whatsapp. Since I couldn't whatsapp them with my "canttakepicturesanddonthaveaearpiecejack" phone. They were sleeping or unavailable. So I headed to Niagara Plus Hotel to seek out Ken but apparently, he had checked out. Nah, I won't blame the dude who I chatted with for 30 minutes. Ken wasn't ...[view whole blog post ]