The noose chuckled at its joke. It was the sound of dry sun and sawdust. Harry Fielding groaned.
"Be quiet," he said.
He wanted to reach up and shake the voices from his head. Watch as they fell, one by one, to the grass. First, his friends. Then the unforgiving stares of his parents, the hurried whispers of co-workers. Finally, his wife. Her daisy coloured dress flying up to obscure her face as she fell, revealing pink underwear.
The noose was not the only thing in his mind.the noose
The villagers from just outside Kumasi town had gathered in two lines on either side of the road that gently snaked up the hill. The two lines of people met at a throng on the hill's crest, where Chief Kwaku Dua's grand white colonial mansion stood. Oh, the sight of the waiting crowd alone was enough to stir such excitement that one would have been forgiven for not holding down one's breakfast. I remember watching the hornbills overhead in the cloudless azure sky. Their flight usually regal and relaxed, on this day their movement was oddly jagged, as if they could not keep straight bearings. Was it that they saw two pythons lying on the hill below, in a mating dance? Pythons of sizes large enough to raise their bodies high into the skies and pluck out the hornbills? Pythons with scales of iridescent hues?nana yaa, kwaku dua and the green-gold fire