Farewell to Ghana

A surprise happened as our plane lifted off from the ground to take us back to the US. Allyson and I started to weep. At first I didn’t realize that she was crying also. I gave a small wave goodbye to Ghana and then the tears came. Allyson was turned to face the window. I touched her arm, and when she looked at me, I saw her tears. We didn’t talk about it. However, when I saw her weeping, the flood gates opened, and I started crying harder. I started to think about the way Togbe kissed the beads before he put them around my neck and Dr. Kofi’s explanation of the gesture. (Please see Blog 1) Through him my ancestors apologized for our parting and welcomed me back. Something happened during that ceremony and has happened to me during my time in Ghana. This is my land and I belong here.

It is not that I am not ready to be home in DC. It is that I also belong in Ghana – in Africa. Ghana is Black. Black majority, Black leadership, Black everything. Black, Black, Black!! That is why I feel at home. I didn’t realize how isolated we are in the United States. The explanation is in the name of my nation. African – American.

And we have been received. Older women would stop Allyson and I to say hello and welcome us home. I wore a skirt to a music festival that showed my backside a little. A lady looked at my hips and said something about me in Ewe to the man she was standing with. I said…”What is it Auntie?’’ She pointed at my body and said, “your feet!…your leg!…your hip!” She was right. My body shape is thick and curvaceous West African through and through. Every time I showed it a little (I went on a horseback ride on Labadi beach in Accra) women would stop and say, “Are you an African woman?” or “Are you Ghanaian.” I was also astounded to see people that look like Black people back home that I know. A billboard in Accra announced a church service being led by an evangelist that looked exactly like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. A man working as a teller at Barclay’s bank looked exactly like one of my graduate school professors. Here in Ghana is a missing link, a missing piece of the puzzle for African – Americans…a deeper understanding of who we are and our long lost family.

So right now I am listening to Fela as I type, with small tears in my eyes, feeling homesick. It is the language that he is singing in that connects me to my homeland – “pidgin” and Yoruba. It reminds me of Ghana. I want to go back. No, Ghana is not perfect. But it is also wonderful and it is mine. My homeland. I will be back in Dzodze in time for Christmas by the grace of God.