Word: cocoa
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...Boom. The foundation of the Gold Coast's high spirits is its burgeoning prosperity-the gift of the cocoa plant, which grows more than 20 feet tall in the dark, rain-drenched forests. Last year the Gold Coast's plantations, all owned by Africans, grew a third of the world's cocoa. And with prices at $10 a load (60 lbs.), the growers are crowding their mud huts with radios, sewing machines, bicycles and even TV sets (though there is no TV station to tune...
...growing cocoa," say the easy-going Gold Coasters. Their job is to cut the pods and lay the blue-green beans out to ferment and dry in the midday sun. The retail trade is handled by the "mammy-traders"-fat old market women, usually illiterate but smart enough to own and operate fleets of heavy trucks. Day & night, the "mammy-trucks" thunder down to the sprawling shantytown ports where fishermen put to sea in dugout canoes. The trucks bear striking legends: "The Lord Is My Shepherd-I Don't Know Why"; "Accra to Takoradi-With God's Help...
Secret Circle. Then came the call from home, where African nationalism was on the march. Nkrumah got a job as secretary general of the United Gold Coast Convention (U.G.C.C.), which was barnstorming the colony demanding Home Rule. There were riots over cocoa prices, and one February day in 1948, a band of Gold Coast veterans of World War II marched on the British governor's palace. In the street fighting that followed, police shot two Africans, wounded many more; a berserk mob looted every store in sight, and 29 people were killed...
...students who use the athletic plant pay an added sum to the University, under the Provost's plan athletic costs become part of tuition. Every student "underwrites" the HAA equally. The Provost is following the strategy of the makers of innumerable chocolate bars, who, when inflation hit the cocoa bean, produced new bigger bars--at double the price...
...there, he usually gets up at 7 ("The bell of Lawrenceville still rings in my head") and goes out for breakfast - sometimes to the railroad station, a three-mile walk. He eats whatever he feels like eating. "What did you have for lunch?" Woollcott once asked him. "Lobster Newburgh, cocoa and brandy." Said Woollcott with a shudder: "That's the worst meal since the Borden Breakfast...