DOGS OF OVIEDO

 

Terrier on the Terrace

If you follow my Instagram account, you know I have a series, “Dogs of Oviedo.” The reason behind this is that dogs are a major part of the social fabric of Ovitense life. Dogs outnumber kids under 15 in Oviedo by a ratio of 3:2.5. Because Oviedo is a small, walking city, dogs are out walking with their humans everywhere (very unusual to see a dog in a car, like in the US), sometimes two or three dogs to one human. Often, dogs, especially the lap variety, join humans at the café table. I've also seen strangers stop to pet their respective canines, which might also prompt the dogs to introduce themselves to each other.

Chow Chow Chariot

Various conveyances can be used to carry dogs, such as the backpack shown above or a stroller.

Of course, dogs have their favorite toys.

Pomeranian Pride

During the winter, humans dress their canines up in sharp outfits, and matching ones if there are two.

Oviedo Rain-Ready (Rat Terriers)

Here's a typically joyous Golden Retriever playing in the dog enclosure in San Francisco Park. I tell you, I have never seen so many happy dogs!

I snapped these Spanish galgos (resembling English Greyhounds but not) who could well have been on their way to a black-tie event. [By the way, "galgo" is not capitalized--Spanish rules: I didn't make them.)

Graceful galgos

You might be forgiven for mistaking this for a St.Bernard, which gentle breed the movie "Cujo" gave a bad name (less so the novel), but this is a Bernese Mountain Dog, another big, gentle canine.

Finally, a young, beautiful Dalmatian I snapped at the mall.

A small disclaimer, though. What I’m seeing in Oviedo is the good half of the story. Terrace dogs are the visible winners: cared for, groomed, and fully integrated into urban life. That skews perception. The other half exists mostly out of sight—in protectoras, in rural areas, in the long afterlife of abandoned working dogs like galgos and podencos. Oviedo may be gentler than many places, but this is a curated slice of reality, not the whole picture.

MY MOVE TO SPAIN--AN UPDATE

 Kwei--Wed

Peacock Art Sunroom (Image: Kwei Quartey)

I’m just jumping on for a quick update on my move to Oviedo, España. I had a stressful last week moving to temporary lodgings at an Airbnb, since my lease at my Pasadena apartment came to an end. Booking an Airbnb is a bit of a crapshoot, and yeah, my first choice was indeed crap. Not a welcoming appearance outside.

What color is that? Bile? (Image: Kwei Quartey)

 Inside wasn’t much better. Apart from the cramped quarters that lent a lie to the online photo, the kitchen light didn’t work, and the bathroom had mildew and a moldy odor. Meanwhile, transmitted noise from the people upstairs was so loud that I might as well have had roommates. 

To be fair, the hosts were responsive and prompt, although it appears they were a management setup rather than the owners themselves. They didn’t know what the kitchen light looked like, and I had to send them a photo. After 8 days, an electrician arrived to replace it, but by then, I’d already informed the host that I was so uncomfortable that there was no way I could stay for another 2 weeks (my departure is July 30). 

I chose a new place, and this time, struck gold.  A nice neighborhood, good surroundings, a zen courtyard, spotless interior (and bathroom!), nice touches like free water and chocolate (won’t eat) in the full-size fridge, slippers to wear indoors, good crockery, comfy bed and sofa, a full all-purpose table where I can both eat and do my work, and plenty closet space. 

Good meditation spot? (Image: Kwei Quartey)

The property is called The Peacock Art Showroom because there’s an ostentation of peacocks wandering around the neighborhood. Funnily enough, I once stayed at an Airbnb in Accra (Esther’s Hotel) that also had peacocks on the premises. 

Spotless digs (Image: Kwei Quartey)

So, now I have some peace of mind and should be in good standing to tackle my next move--the big one!

A New Mystery Series Takes Shape in Spain

Wed--Kwei

The Ember Glows Again

Embers come to life (Photo by Xiangkun ZHU on Unsplash)

For a time, it felt like the fire had gone out. Leaving the U.S. under political pressure and realizing I could no longer safely return to Ghana—the setting of my Darko Dawson and Emma Djan series—felt like a creative dead end. But stories don’t go quietly. A new spark flared from the dying embers, and a new mystery series began to form.

At its center is a horse trainer with a painful past, a sharp mind, and an unflinching sense of truth. The tone? Think Dick Francis meets Tana French. And the aphorism that anchors it all: Horses never lie. People do.

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A Landscape Made for Mystery

Oviedo (Image: Nacho from Oviedo, Wikimedia)

The setting for this new story is northern Spain’s Asturias region—a land of misty peaks, old stone villages, and winding trails. Horses are not accessories here; they’re a way of life. Asturias has long maintained a strong rural equestrian culture, and that living bond between people and horses provides fertile ground—literally and literarily—for mystery and suspense.

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Spain’s Equestrian Legacy

Andalusian stallion in a grassy field in Spain

(Image: Missi Köpf, Pexels)

While Asturias offers a quiet, earthy charm, the broader history of Spain’s horses runs deep. The Andalusian—Spain’s most iconic horse—has roots going back millennia. Known for elegance, strength, and intelligence, it was favored by kings, warriors, and nobles. It’s no exaggeration to say that Spain helped shape global horsemanship through its cavalry and classical riding schools.

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Oviedo vs. Barcelona: Two Spains

My family once spent time in Barcelona and found it open, diverse, and welcoming. Oviedo, by contrast, is quieter, more traditional, and more homogeneous. In Barcelona, diversity is part of the fabric; in Oviedo, it stands out. As a Black American, I expect to be noticed. But I don’t expect hostility—just curiosity, perhaps some unconscious bias, and the usual dance of cultural adjustment.

Africans in Spain: A Forgotten History

       The Moorish Chief, by Edouart Charlemont

             Philadelphia Museum of Art

Spain is often portrayed as monolithically white and Catholic, but that ignores a rich, complicated history. During the centuries of Muslim rule, Black Moors—some of whom were kings and generals—held power in Al-Andalus. Black Africans weren’t always enslaved; many were scholars, architects, and advisors.

Yet, this history has been largely erased or whitewashed in mainstream Spanish narratives. Today’s Afro-Spaniards are still fighting for visibility, recognition, and a place in the national story.

The Racial Spectrum in Spain

Before committing to this move, I spent time on YouTube watching videos by Black expats, Afro-Spaniards, and travelers of color. What I found was mixed. Some speak of subtle racism: staring, stereotyping, or being assumed to be a street vendor or nanny. Others describe a social "hierarchy of Blackness"—a cringeworthy but real phenomenon—where African Americans are often romanticized while West Africans, particularly darker-skinned immigrants, face systemic marginalization.

This isn’t unique to Spain, but it’s worth noting. A Ghanaian immigrant may experience Spain very differently from a Black American tourist or writer. Class, skin tone, accent, and passport all matter. They shouldn’t—but they do.

Facing Forward—Aware, Not Afraid

Two Mexican Americans I spoke to recently told me bluntly, “The Spanish are racist.” I didn’t argue, but I took a beat. That statement says as much about the complicated relationship between Latin America and Spain as it does about Spain itself. Many Latin Americans feel looked down upon by Europeans from the peninsula. Colonial trauma lingers, even in casual remarks.

My response? I’m going to Spain aware, not naïve. I’m not going to seek approval. I’m going to live—and to write.

Stories are rising again, and this time, they're set in the green heart of Spain.

Life-Changing Choices: Leaving for a New Chapter

Kwei--Wed 

                    View from Mount Naranco of foliage-rich Oviedo 
                                    (Recreated with AI)

There are moments in life when we face profound choices that change everything. These decisions aren't always easy, but they often lead us down paths that redefine who we are and where we're headed. I've had my share of these pivotal moments, but none more consequential than the one I’ve come to face now.

The Joke Becomes Reality: Leaving the USIt was once a running joke among many of us: "If Trump wins, I’m leaving the US." It was said in jest--a way to vocalize frustration without the intention of actually acting on it. But that sentiment has evolved. This time, the stakes are too high, and for many, including myself, it is no longer just a statement of dissatisfaction. 

In July, I will leave the US to resettle in Oviedo, Spain's beautiful, luxuriantly green city. The decision isn't born from a mere sense of frustration but from a deep, persistent sense of panic and concern. Every day, the Trump administration creates a daily environment of uncertainty, despair, and fury. Under Biden’s leadership, there were still struggles, but my mornings usually began with mundane thoughts about what errands I had to run and what my day would look like. Since the rise of Trumpism, however, I wake up with a gnawing sense of dread, my first thought often being, What new horror has Trump on Truth Social unleashed overnight?

A Physician’s Perspective: The Painful Legacy of Trump

As a physician, some of the most painful aspects of the Trump administration have been the consistent attacks on public health and university institutions and resources that directly affect the lives of millions, including my own work. The cruelty and lack of empathy demonstrated over a couple of months of the Trump regime are staggering. The following are just a few of the catastrophic actions that have left me deeply disturbed:

• USAID: Under the Trump administration, USAID’s mission of providing global aid was undermined, with critical funding cut back to nations in need, particularly those battling public health crises such as HIV/AIDS, malaria, and tuberculosis. When I lived in Ghana, I often met Americans in service under USAID’s auspices.
• NIH (National Institutes of Health): Funding to the NIH has been slashed, impeding scientific research on a range of crucial health issues. The administration’s rejection of science and research priorities has left many in the medical community feeling unsupported and unheard.
• CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention): Once the gold standard for global health, the CDC is being sidelined during Trump's term. His administration’s neglect and active interference in health policies will lead to unnecessary delays in response to the COVID-19 pandemic and other public health emergencies. Added to this is the ridiculousness of a brainworm-infested anti-vaxxer, RFK, Jr., getting the post of Secretary of HHS.
• Immigration and Family Separation: The cruelty of separating families at the border and the treatment of asylum seekers are some of the most heart-wrenching actions that signal a profound disregard for human dignity.
• Environmental Rollbacks: Trump’s environmental policies, aimed at rolling back protections, worsened the health risks of pollution and climate change, affecting vulnerable populations, particularly those in impoverished areas.
• Civil Rights and Voting Restrictions: The administration’s support for voter suppression and efforts to stifle civil rights were not only harmful to democracy but also to public health, as disenfranchised communities often bear the brunt of systemic inequalities. It hasn’t yet been ruled out that Trump might try to invoke the Insurrection Act at the US southern border or in places where mass demonstrations are likely to occur.

The Danger of Returning to the US

Given the current political climate, visiting the US has become fraught with more danger than ever, even for citizens. The rise of vigilante justice, racial and LGBTQ+ persecution, and a political climate that seems to stoke division every day make it feel as though the country is on a path that may not be safe for people like me for many years to come. Here are just a few examples of injustices:

·  Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia: Mistakenly deported to El Salvador in 2025 despite protected legal status. (AP News)

·  Andry José Hernández Romero: Deported from the U.S. to El Salvador in 2025 after being misidentified as a gang member. (The Guardian)

·  LGBTQ+ Asylum Seeker: Wrongfully deported from the U.S. to El Salvador, facing dangers in its prison system. (Washington Blade)

·  Karla Avelar: A transgender activist facing persecution in El Salvador for her LGBTQ+ advocacy. (Wikipedia)

The trauma caused by Trumpism doesn't simply fade away with the end of his presidency. The ripple effects are felt in our social fabric, institutions, and daily lives. And now, as I decide to leave, I’m not only fleeing a country but reclaiming my peace of mind and safety.

A New Beginning in Spain

Oviedo, Spain, offers me the opportunity for a new start, away from the storm of chaos and cruelty that has defined the first months of the Trump regime. I look forward to a life where I can wake up with hope, not fear, and my thoughts will not be consumed by the next Trump tweet or policy change that undermines my country’s values. I will still advocate for the things I believe in—healthcare equity, global peace, and human dignity—but I will do so from a place where I can breathe again.

This life-changing decision is necessary for my survival, peace, and well-being. It’s a reminder that sometimes, to move forward, we need to make resolutions that feel radical at first but are, in fact, the bravest acts of self-preservation.

Life is full of choices—sometimes, we choose what we think is best at the moment, and other times, life chooses for us. This decision has chosen me, and I am finally taking the leap.

A Writing Career at a Crossroads

As I prepare to embark on this new chapter in Spain, I reflect on my writing career, which I feel has reached a peak and possibly a plateau. My enthusiasm for setting murder mysteries in Ghana, once a wellspring of creativity and intrigue, has significantly dwindled since the release of The Whitewashed Tombs. Ghana's backdrop—its complex social fabric, vibrant culture, and thrilling mysteries—seems less inviting now, given the anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment that persists. 

With over 80% of Ghanaians disapproving of same-sex relationships, the environment feels not only morally challenging but also potentially unsafe for someone like me to visit. Beyond the physical risks, there’s a more profound ethical dilemma: Why should I continue to patronize a society that rejects who I am? This conflict has left me in a place where my passion for writing about Ghana has been replaced by a sense of disillusionment, making it hard to find the same inspiration that once drove me.