I am Anlo-Ewe, from Keta, a town in the Volta Region of Ghana built on a narrow strip of sand between two waters. To the north lies the Keta Lagoon, the largest in the country. To the south, the open Gulf of Guinea. In places, the land between them is only a few hundred metres wide.
The sea is not gentle here. The Atlantic has swallowed whole streets of old Keta: homes, a church, a colonial fort. And still the town stayed. People rebuilt behind the sea defence, fished the same waters that took the land, and made full, dignified lives out of a sliver of sand and whatever it offered. That refusal to be diminished, that talent for making much out of little, is the first thing Keta taught me.
It shaped how I create. Keta taught me that constraint is not the enemy of beauty but the condition for it. You can take the little you are given and shape something worth keeping. As an engineer I am rarely handed abundance; I am handed limits, and the work is to build something elegant and durable inside them. That instinct isn't really mine. It belongs to the people who kept living, and kept making, on a strip of sand the ocean wanted back.
Before any of this was code, it was words and music. I came up in the humanities, the kid lost in poems, books, and history, a serious World War II nerd who can still place the decade of a photograph from the grain and the uniforms. For a long time I thought of myself as a humanities person who happened to write software. The two felt like separate lives.
Then I found the Bauhaus, and the wall between them came down. Its whole argument is that how a thing is made is inseparable from what it is, that craft and function are one and not two. I realised the line I had drawn between engineering and art was never really there: engineering is art, art is engineering, and I could use one to express the other. I build distributed systems for a living, but I am chasing the same thing a good poem or a clean typeface chases: nothing decorative, nothing missing, the whole thing looking inevitable once it exists.