I am currently writing this from a Bar in Amsterdam, confidently having a glass of Heineken for breakfast—I know it’s gross and unhealthy but it is also unique. This is why Amsterdam is my favourite city, Europe’s sin city.
I’ve not eaten anything this morning but I really don’t care, because if I have to rush to use the restroom, there are many available. And this little bar even has made accommodation for this.
Apart from it somewhat being compulsory for public places to have restrooms in this part of the world, there are several public toilets at regular intervals positioned by the state authorities—which come to the aid of the public when there’s an emergency.
But back home in Ghana, public restrooms are rare–and I don’t even think any decent ones exist yet. Though I have seen a little improvement at our international airport-Kotoka, it still smells badly, capable of giving you a headache.
On my first day in Ghana, I had a late night dinner at East Legon—at a popular Banku and Tilapia joint called Filipino. I wanted to pee and when I asked where I could do that, they pointed me to the back, a few yards away from where the tables were set up.
Perhaps, this ‘big man’ I saw squeezing his bum with his hand covering his backside in the usual ‘I am about to sh*t on myself’ way wouldn’t mind if there was any restroom within a reasonable proximity—even if it was foul-smelling.
I do not understand why we can’t have a good number of restrooms around busy Accra, even when people are ready to pay for their usage. And hardly do you find any of the roadside food joints making accommodation for such a facility.
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