The World through my eyes My goal is to rediscover West Africa by documenting my travels around the region with a long term goal and vision to cover the rest of Africa and the world.

At 4 PM I’m suddenly up with an excellent burst of vitality after the afternoon’s sumptuous feast of Kanke and spicy lobsters’ source had sent me on a three hours nap.  The heaviness of the Kenke, another of Ghana’s traditional meal prepared from corn maize made me almost forget the significance of the day.

Of course it’s Wednesday! I think excitedly.

Like all Ghanaians, I have begun the day in a very high spirit. And now, in two hours time all hell will stand still in the humid country as the Black Stars go against the Chipolopolo of Zambia in the Semi final of the Orange African cup of Nations in the city of Bata, Equatorial Guinea, at the Estadio de Bata.

As four times title holder, the Black Stars are hungry for another title. Their last taste of victory was in 1982. Considered favorite for the title this year, they parade a very youthful and talented team with international stars like Asamoah Gyan who stunned the English Premier League last season, and  Dede Ayew of Marselle, Ghana new wonder boy since his father Abede Pele.

But the team struggled to beat Tunisia 2-1 in 120 minutes exhaustive match on Sunday night to booked their place in the last four of the tournament, while Zambia had a cool sailing to the last four after beating Sudan on Saturday.

Howbeit, both sides won three and drew one game to get here.

Brock, my research partner, is quick to point out to me: “Ghana should be very careful of the Chipolopolo team. They are a very great side and will make it to the final.”

But my Ghanaian brothers and I are confidence of winning tonight. And every Ghanaian I meet does not see this side losing the match at all. They see the game as if their supremacy on the continent depended upon it.

The pre-match tension had begun to build as earlier as this morning.

“Charley when we finish with Zambia, you people should just give us the cup now!” One jubilant fan shouts at his opponent in an argument about the team’s slow performance.

And another adds indignantly, “We are the best in the world! You people should ask USA about us, now. We dey beat them, paaaa!”

As the cadence of the descending sun illuminates the former Gold Coast, its humid rays dazzle on every pedestrian dressed in the national team jerseys. And to admit, it’s a very beautiful rainbow combination to watch as the diehard Ghanaian fans scintillate in their national side’s jerseys.

At five thirty, I board a bus for the suburban town of Malam, about 10 km from the Buduburam Refugee Settlement where I’ve come to conduct a research, to see a Ghanaian friend, whose place I will watch this all important game of African Football. 

The exitement starts at 6:00 PM, precisely after the usual familiarity that went on before all football matches. Of course I was the only foreigner in the living room of four adults and two kids cheering the Black stars to victory, as my custom is to be a citizen of wherever I travel.

Seated before a 41 inch plasma screen that brought the picture in a very high definition, it was as if we were seated in the steamy weather of the partly empty Bata stadium.

At the sound of the whistle we squeeze into our seat as Ghana starts the game with a quick tempo to break the Zambians as quickly as possible.

But as expected, Zambia lines up a 4-2-2-2, a very defensive system they seem to be good at.  

However, the Black Stars task to try to break down the resilient Zambia defense quickly results into an early minute penalty just eight minutes into the game.

All Ghana stands still at the moment as the ball is place on the spot to be taken by Asamoah Gyan. You can almost hear your own heart beats within the seconds. But all our hearts shatter as Ghana star player widely misses this glorious opportunity.

The whole Ghana thunders into a great roar of disappointment.

“Oh Asamoah you dey kill us oooh!” My host shouted as the ball went sailing past the post.

 “What happened?” I ask, daze and confuse, having blink from fright as the penalty was taken.

“If we lost this game we go kill that bastard!” yelled someone in our audience.

The game continues. Ghana dominates, but struggles to create chances.

And the Zambians, fast on every counter, attempt to break quickly with the two wide players, Chansa on the left and Rainford Kabala, their most dangerous player on the ball, on the right coming in off the flanks.

Then Mayuka, the only member of the Zambian squad playing for a European first division club, came in and added a little flavor to his team.

We clink to the edges of our seats as the game now becomes tense.

And then out of the blue, with a shot on the turn of 78 minutes, Emmanuel Mayuka, the Zambians’ substitute broke our hearts. We watch in bewilderment as the ball sails past and seems to be happily collected by the nets.

And then the entire Ghana goes mute. It seems the unpredictable gods of football have already decided Ghana’s fate on this day. To add insult to the injury, as my old grandmother would say, our midfielder Derek Boateng is sent off eight minutes from time with a second yellow.

By now all Ghana erupts in an upheaval of disappointment over the performance of the national team.

My host says hysterically,”Asamoah Gyan is a bastard, and not a real Ghanaian, I swear to God!”

Everyone in the living room agrees.

The whistle finally goes in the 92 minutes to announce the sad fall of the illustrious Black Stars.

Like all Ghanaians I must travel 10 Km back in silence with curses for Asamoah Gyan, for missing a clear cut chance in the eight minutes of the game.