Cake Time

I’ve never had Ghana cake as it turns out. I’ve had different sorts of ‘cake’ here, but not the cake. Ghana cake is used to make wedding cakes, and birthday cakes, and the like, so it’s an important type of cake. You can buy it in small, undecorated, single-servings (like a muffin) while waiting at the trotro station, or you can get it in sheets, fully decorated and layered for a special occasion. It surprises me that it has somehow managed to pass under my radar, because if you know me at all, you know I love cake.

So here we are chatting between classes at school, at the tables we drag outside and set behind the building to catch some breeze. It’s a hot day and Justin says, “I could really go for a drink and some cake right now.” And, like Cartman from South Park (minus the ‘beef’) I said, “Caaaaaaaaakkkeee.” And then suddenly it was all we could talk about. All you have to say is the word and instantly you crave it, such is the power of cake. But, as it turns out, the cake I was thinking of was not the cake George and Justin were thinking of. When it became apparent I had never had Ghana cake, there was only one thing to do: find it and eat it. Mission Cake was a go.

After school, I walked to Komenda Junction from Besease (a 20-30 minute trip by foot). Then I boarded a trotro to Cape Coast (a 45 minute ride). I walked all the way down to George’s brother’s place of work from the trotro station (15 minutes by foot) to pick up a computer from him. Then I asked him if he knew where I could get cake. But such a broad request confused him a bit ("Exactly what kind of cake?" "Oh you know, the kind used to make birthday cakes and the like."). So he walked me down to a shop where he thought my question could be better answered. A large woman sat behind a table piled with candy and chocolate and instant coffee and between the three of us, my lack of knowledge about the type of cake I was looking for, Fante and English and translation, I accidentally ordered a grand sized birthday cake complete with decoration. All I wanted was a personal sized cake, but I was in goofy mood and Janet's birthday had been a week before and Justin's was a week away, so I figured, why not? A cake with frosting was better than a cake without.

So I was supposed to come three days later to pick it up. Great! Mission cake completed. Then it dawned on me as I was reaching the trotro station to go home, that I told Justin and George I would come back with cake for them...today, right now. It was getting late. Shops were closing, the sun was setting. I frantically made my way through the maze of the market trying to find cake and found none. As I came out onto the street, I saw one of my favorite vendors dismantling her fruit stand. She saw me glancing around at all the shops, trays, and stands still opened and asked what I wanted. "I'm trying to find cake!" And like a fairy godmother, she grabbed my hand and led me into the trotro station to track down a girl walking around with a plexiglass box often seen on the heads of street vendors. The girl took the box off her head and there it was! I had seen it so many times before, but for some reason I had never bought it. In fact I'm pretty sure I thought it was meat pie. Sometimes you can't be sure about the breaded items in Ghana. I've tried to buy a different kind of cake before and instead got a savory something that had an egg surprise in the middle. It was good, but it wasn't cake. So I bought two for two cedis, and went home. Mission cake completed.

Three days later I picked up the birthday cake. It was marvelous. And expensive. But marvelous nonetheless. So that night, just after the power had gone out (a typical occurrence in Ghana), Kampoh, Patrick and I sat in Kissi and sang happy birthday to Justin. Then entertained ourselves with self-made music and dance until we felt sick from eating.