The Shalom Spot, part 2

Alas, we’d had just enough to drink to make commandeering a taxi from its reluctant driver seem like a good idea. So that’s how Renae ended up behind the wheel and the dumbstruck, and no doubt slightly scared, driver in the back seat. We would find a bar that would have us and that’s all there was to it.

Kpong, the next town over, had no idea what do with us. It was midnight, and we milled around its darkened streets, all the businesses closed by this hour, asking everyone we encountered if there were any place to get a drink. We did this for longer than you might think. We were persistent.

Then I met Elvis. Who knew the King had departed Graceland for this decidedly more rustic African backwater? But there he was. An incredibly kind and gentle man of indeterminate middle age, he took on our problem with as much earnestness as if we were searching for penicillin or the Arc of the Covenant.

He knew of a place, he said, and pointed back up the road we’d just come down. Alone now, as the abducted taxi driver had wisely escaped, we started walking. Elvis explained our predicament to each townsperson we met along the way. He would listen, nod and then point us farther up the road.

At some point, I don’t know when, a woman joined us and took the lead. So, of course, we blindly followed. After a few hundred yards, we turned down a dark dirt sidestreet. Scrofulous dogs skulked off into the shadows at our approach. The moon gave everything a silvery luster it could never match during the day. We finally stopped before a small wood structure that would’ve stored garden tools at home. Welcome to the Shalom Spot.

A small light behind the makeshift bar revealed a row of bottles. Never have five drunken fools been so happy to find more things to drink. All we could get Elvis to take for his time and trouble was a Coke. This gentle, sweet man was content merely to sit with us, listen to our nonsensical ramblings and drink his soda.

After an hour, it was time to leave and he insisted on walking us much of the mile or so back to Odumase. On the dark road, in the moonlight, we shook hands, snapping our fingers in the Ghanaian style.

He smiled. “I’m happy to meet you,” he said to Calum and me.

“We’re so happy to meet you,” I said. “Thank you for your help.”

Pleased, his smile broadened. “OK, bye bye.”

“Bye bye, Elvis,” we said.

(Picture: Calum and some of his friends, and me and Elvis, with his dukes up, in the Shalom Spot)