by Sionne Neely
*This is an excerpt from a fuller article originally printed in Jive magazine, Accra [June 2008]. Double-click on photos to enlarge.
He sounded like a Black Panther on the phone. Voice all deep and guttural like he had been cussing out “the Man” all day. I imagined him with a black beret cocked to the side and a matching leather jacket, right fist raised in the air, his left fingers coiled tightly around a megaphone.