I intend to knock, but my knuckles, of their own accord, give off a loud banging sound. He opens the door and recoils as if he has seen a ghost. He mumbles inaudibly. I present my face like a weapon.
We exchange cold handshakes and stand silently on his veranda. He pulls up a stool resting on the side of the wall and offers it to me. I reluctantly accept and ensconce myself on it. He pulls up another and sits uncomfortably on half of his buttocks. I do not shift my gaze or smoothen my furrowed brow. My lips are still pouted. He knows why I am here. I do not need to tell him.
He asks if I want anything to drink- Water, Beer maybe? I shake my head. He asks if I want some fruits; His wife bought some oranges from the market, he informs needlessly. Still, I shake my head to refuse his offer. He rises up from his stool and excuses himself momentarily. He returns with an old and dusty Oware set and pulls up a little coffee table. He blows dust off the wood and opens up the set. No marbles.
He yells out at his wife about the marbles. She yells back at him; She hasn’t touched the Oware set in ages. He rises to walk out again. I clear my throat and say to his face matter-of-factly, “Kofi, my money.” He nods shamefully and stutters, “I-I-I-“. I tighten the nots on my forehead, clench my fists and breath out fire from my nostrils. “I am going to bring it,” he says obediently.