"My father, at cocktail parties, liked to get children dancing. We’d be in the backyard flinging ourselves at and off things: tire swings, tree branches, each other. He’d wander out, beer or scotch in hand. 'What is this?' he’d ask in a loud voice. 'The annual Foolishness International board meeting?' I’d fill with a pleasant warmth. My father would toss one or two of us over his shoulders. He’d run. We’d chase him to the patio or the living room—wherever the stereo system was. 'Dance time!' he’d say. He’d teach us moves. Sometimes he’d even do a little choreography. We’d show off, get sweaty. Shy children my father would take by the hand. He’d coax and twirl them until they loosened. I was shy, but not when dancing with him. ..."
The Paris Review (Video)
Smithsonian: How a Tightknit Community of Ghanaians Has Spiced Up the Bronx
New York may be the largest enclave of the Ghanaian diaspora.
No comments:
Post a Comment