Accra, 2013, 6 a.m.: The scrawny Rooster strangles his advise and my sleep with his fuss. Mercy’s broom has already begun switching away last evening’s needs. I hear my uncle scurrying out the cowl door headed for the waakye stall across the aspect road on the nook of Palace Avenue, North Kaneshie—his first breakfast beckons. Waayke (pronounced WAH-chay). The ludicrously extravagant breakfast that is sold on aspect road corners in a plastic score or wrapped in a plantain leaf locations any UK aspect road meals and even some brunch menus to shame.
