But at Tema Harbor, my fascination with the Land of the Whites continued to grow: ships arrived from that mysterious country full of wondrous cargo. Fantastical cars (they were actually used cars, but to us they were new), TV sets, secondhand computers . . . The abundance of goods produced outside of Ghana, used outside of Ghana, and then, when no one wants them anymore, sold in Ghana. “Every year, the whites throw everything out and buy all new things,” a friend told me. “That’s how rich they are. They live in the lap of luxury. Everything that comes through the port is stuff they don’t
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