Kofi Awoonor and I co-taught a Creative Writing workshop at the University of Ghana. Each week after the three-hour workshop, without fail, we would walk to Loggia, the drinking bar on campus. There, we would each have one large Star beer and two goat kebab sticks. Rarely would we talk about the class or our students. We would people-watch, turn the other clientele at the bar into fictional characters, and then we would take turns at filling in the details of their lives. We loved to laugh, and shared the same mischievous impulses. The connection we had was special. I loved Kofi Awoonor deeply, and am yet to come to terms with the senselessness of his death.
