Ode to Kotokoraba Market: on the theme of Joni Mitchell's "They Paved Paradise and put up a Parking Lot"

I went to the Market the other day
And when I got there it had gone away.
The entrance where I used to go in
Was blocked by fencing and a high wall of tin.

But now how do I get into this place?
I want to go see my good friend's face.
She sells Shea Butter, sponges and soap
But the man at the gate looked at me and said, "Nope."

"The market traders are no longer here
And they won't be back until sometime next year."
But where did they go and why did they leave?
This was something I simply could not believe.

"We're building a new market of mortar and stone,
One that a fire would leave well alone. 
The old market was shabby, its stalls rather flimsy.
We wanted a safe place. One not created by whimsy."


But where is my friend and how will I find her?
"I haven't a clue. It's not my day to mind her.
Some traders have set up their shops under umbrellas.
Go look for yourself; now be a good fella.







So I wandered around through the open bazaar
Seeing no one I knew though I looked near and far.
Until walking down one of the new alleyways,
Someone said, "I know him!" and that made my day.

I had taken her photo three years in the past
And given her a copy hoping it would last
And be a remembrance of the Bronyi she'd met
Like mine an experience never to forget.


I asked of my friend who sold the Shea Butter
And she told me to follow but mind all the clutter.
We passed stalls of rice and of beans and bananas,
Then down some stone steps and there stood smiling Hannah!

She laughed when she saw me and her smile was just grand
She used to tell all my students I was her long lost husband
Who only came home every two or three years
Then they'd all laugh together till almost in tears.

The plan is to build a new city Mall
With shops, stores, and stalls appealing to all.
To be modern and contemporary is Kotokoraba's fate.

In the language of Ghana, the old market is "late."