I remember several of us––Kinna, Ayesha, Nana Akua, Nana Awere, Kofi Apabli, Nii Ayi, etc—at Kotoka International Airport. We were giddy and loud with excitement. The quality of the festival was better than any other I had previously attended. Not even in America had I encountered such precise programming, nor enjoyed such pampering. I met many wonderful writers including Mona with her flaming red hair and electric smile, Panashe who had me giggling a lot, Zukiswa who gave me a pair of earrings I still have, Jennifer Makumbi who exuded grace and so many more people. Looking back, I wish I had been less shy and befriended people like Nicole Denis-Bern. I also met Yinka Ibukun who is now a friend in Ghana. Oh, the events. The book chats. The art, especially that of Abdul Kareem that now hangs in my study, and Ummi Bukar whose film, Uprooted, left me sobbing. I was like a child in a toffee shop, not sure which way to look. I remember Chibundu’s rich singing at the opening ceremony, Wana’s vibrance, the dancers and, my, the production of The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives! That was breath-taking. More importantly, the connections I made led to other connections which has brought me to where I am today, an author published internationally. I can’t thank Ake enough. Medaase! Merci! Ose! Obrigada! 

-Bisi Adjapon