One hot afternoon in the 1980s, I was making the rounds of popular places in Accra, trying (as was often the case in those days) to find petrol to buy.

I was walking along the road when I heard loud music coming from a bar that was evidently put up on my blind side, not far from Chief Mark Cofie’s motor workshop in Osu at the time.

I found a spot to park my car fast, and the music was amazing. After that, I strolled to a public area next to the Catholic Cathedral, where the bar was open. I had a tremendous desire to get on the dance floor as soon as I stepped onto the premises.

I just dove into the waves of the intoxicating music, not waiting to see if I could quench my thirst with a beer, not looking for some lone girl who might be willing to come dance with me, and not knowing if the incredible song blasting from the speakers would end soon or not.

I don’t think I have ever had such a great time dancing as that afternoon. I had done my share of hi-living back in the distant past, when Ghana was a veritable pot of delightful amusement, daring one to “taste and see” what Weekend in Havana, Apollo Theatre, Lido, or any such venue would provide.