I haven’t been watching this year’s African Cup of Nations for several reasons. One, I don’t care, at least I told myself I didn’t. Two, I agreed with Morocco on not hosting the tournament because of the Ebola epidemic and thought it should have been cancelled altogether. But you know, bread and circuses. Give the populace something to forget their miseries right?
So all throughout the tournament my family has been posting snippets, comments, and outrages (the Equatorial Guinea – Ghana semi-final match) on all forms of social media so I haven’t exactly been able to avoid it.
But tomorrow, the final match between Ghana and Côte D’Ivoire is one I will probably watch. I’m excited for the opportunity to replay the 1992 African Cup of Nations final. At the time, we were living in Ghana, our second year there, and the excitement all around was very tangible. Naturally, we were supporting Ghana until our mother announced that as for her she was supporting the Ivory Coast. So we switched teams, Daddy – Ghana, Mama – Côte d’Ivoire, and wouldn’t you know it, Mama won. I’ve been partial to Les Éléphants since.
A lover of mangoes. A woman - smart, without pretense, lefthanded, Afropolitan - navigating this thing called life. An unapologetic believer in social justice and karma. Choosing to radiate positive energy and be true to myself. Here, my musings.
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