A Whirlwind Visit to Ghana Ten Years Later

Oh my! Where did time go? I remember leaving Ghana in 2008, thinking that the next time I came it would be with my husband. I was tired of the constant references to my being in my late twenties and unmarried. I did not want to give anyone reason to try to set me up. I also did not want to return to Ghana without a man by my side and be limited in my activities because of what society (also known as my family) could potentially deem to be inappropriate behaviours/activities. “It’s not safe”, they would say when all I wanted to do was catch a taxi to take me from point A to point B.

When my sisters went to Ghana in 2014 for the Christmas holidays, I was forced to live vicariously through them. I had just moved and started a new job that was quite inflexible. Would you believe it that since then I have moved again and started yet another new job? Yes!

Though I now work insane hours, I have more flexibility with how I take my vacation days. 2018 is therefore going to be exciting, travel-wise. First stop Ghana.

Dutifully, first stop Ghana.

Not quite sure at the outset that this was going to count as “holidays”. I was going to visit my parents who would surely “drag” me to Nzema to visit my grandmother, my namesake, and other relatives there. I was going to have to empty my bank account and come bearing cold hard cash, just a little something something. I was going to have to sit through kind thoughts and prayers for the in-law and the grandchildren or great-grandchildren I have not yet provided. I was going to have to plead to do things I wanted to do and then resign myself to being happy sitting on the couch at home where it’s safe. So no, I was not looking forward to visiting Ghana.

Reluctantly, first stop Ghana.

Nine days in Ghana came and went just like that. Indeed, I spent 3-4 days of it in Nzema and thoroughly enjoyed the itinerary that my parents had designed for me. I sat with my grandmother and my uncle who were grateful for their gifts and happy to see me again, blessing me with good fortune for the husband who will soon-come. I smiled politely.

I visited the villages of my parent’s youth, tracing their legendary multi-kilometer walks from one village to the next “just to go to school”, along the lagoon “where we played the fool”, past the coconut trees “we would climb”, past the headmaster’s home “of whom I was a favourite pupil”. We drove by villages whose names I had never heard of before only to learn that one or the other of my parents had lived there for a several years. Memories. As they talked between themselves, I realized that though my parents hadn’t met until they were adults, since both had grown up “in the village”, both had far-reaching connections that traversed multiple villages and intersected each other. It dawned on me that my parents fears that their grandchildren would not know home (yes, the grand-children that are yet to be born), was unrealistic. Did they not realize that the link was already broken, that their own children, myself included, did not know home?

In Accra, pre-planning was vital to making best use of the limited time I had. Off to Accra Mall and to the National Art Center straight from the airport to peruse the wares and decide on which gifts will eventually return with me to the US. Reaching out to friends and meeting them as often as I could put me in that holiday mode I didn’t think I would achieve. Sitting alone in a restaurant/bar waiting for a friend or another to join me, fully aware that no other woman had arrived alone, sat alone, ordered her own alcoholic beverage and snacks. What did they think of me? The Ghanaians around me, mostly men of a certain age, enjoying a post-work drink, chit-chat, and flirt before returning home to their wives.

Meeting friends. Reminiscing. Laughing. Flirting. Having a good time. Surprisingly, first stop Ghana was more fun than I had anticipated. When will I return? I don’t know. My suspicion? Soon-come!