My hat conversion at Banana Inn
The other day, I received an invitation from my friend Bismark, summoning me to his 50th birthday bash at Banana Inn, Accra, on Sunday, December 10, 2023.
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I have known Bismark for the past 25 years, and in that period I have seen him rise from several huge disappointments and challenges to build and run a major events company, Bisdo Events, which by all standards is doing extremely well.
I was determined to honour his invitation and share with him and his young family the joy of how far the Lord has brought him over the past half century.
Dress code challenge
As with many social events in this country, there was a dress code.
Since most joyous occasions such as christenings, weddings and birthday parties tend to mandate all-white attire,
I, like many others, have stockpiled quite a few sets in anticipation.
I also regularly update my wardrobe with black kaftans to take care of the inevitable, regular funeral invitations.
On this occasion, however, Bismark threw a spanner in the works, and commanded all invitees to wear ‘something colourful’.
In addition, all men were to wear hats and the ladies had to wear fascinators.
I was able to rustle through my wardrobe’s rather conservative contents in mild panic and yank out a peach kaftan that my tailor insisted on putting together for me a couple of years ago, claiming that it would set off nicely against my dark complexion.
I blessed him as I fished out the attire.
At least I would not have to fork out precious Ghana Cedis to commandeer ‘something colourful’, whatever that meant.
The next challenge was the hat. I do not recall wearing a hat in my life, except perhaps just to pose for a photograph and had no intention to do so.
I had no idea how much they even cost.
I do not even like caps, and have never owned any, even though I have donned them on a few occasions, removing them as soon as I could.
Where could I get a fedora hat in the big, wide capital?
Throughout last week, I scoured the roads to and from work in the forlorn hope of seeing roadside hat vendors who could put me out of my misery.
It is almost comical how you never find the appropriate vendors when you need them most, and yet when you no longer need them, they suddenly appear from nowhere like a swarm of bees.
Dilemma resolved
In my mild panic, I turned to social media and made a plea for clues on my Facebook wall on Saturday afternoon.
The responses came in thick and fast.
Some suggested Makola, others Tudu, and other pointed to certain bespoke boutiques, where a fedora hat was selling for around GH¢600.00.
What? For a one-day event?
I was not having it.
A friend offered to lend me one of his but he lived too far from me.
I considered backing out altogether.
I called Bismark and explained my dilemma to him, wondering whether it was a strict requirement.
He informed me there would be some hats on sale at the gate.
That was quite a relief.
On arrival, I settled for a coffee-coloured fedora hat out of the huge variety of colours to match my coffee-coloured slippers.
Upon entry, I was greeted by an array of outfits, especially by the ladies, which, together with their beautiful fascinators, set off a dazzling kaleidoscope of a riot of colours and gave a rather warm feel to the event.
Conversion
For a strange reason, my scalp did not itch with the hat perched on top of my head, nor did I feel any discomfort.
Maybe it was the fun environment and the idea of seeing every man in a hat.
Without an ‘eureka’ moment or a blinding light such as what Saul experienced on the road to Damascus, wearing a hat seemed almost like a natural event to me, as if I had been a cowboy or a country singer all my life.
It is interesting how an aversion or indifference to something, without even experiencing it, can turn on its head once one experiences it.
I do not know if my conversion will last, or whether like the Scripture Union boys back in school who got swayed by the temptations of worldly pleasures, I will ‘backslide’, as we used to call their relapse.
Who knows, with the zeal of a born-again Christian, I may well start a hat collection to rival that of the famous, late Nana Kofi Genfi, former proprietor of Nurom Hotel, Kumasi, who at the time of his death in 1995, had collected over 4,000 hats, earning the nickname ‘Mr. Hatman’.
I hope I can nurture and sustain my newfound love.
Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng,
Head, Communications & Public Affairs Unit,
Ministry of Energy.