Soaking in the humidity, I walked onto a bus going anywhere. I signed up blindly for the experience of a “homestay” in this strange new place, Ghana.
The excruciating humidity blanketed my eyelids as we drove hours through a beaten up jungle road. Dust tumbled up and painted children’s faces with a dirt coating while tall lean women balanced enormous jugs, pans, bottles, and sticks on top of their skulls.
This was Ghana, a place that never rested. Through the hilly jungles we abruptly took a turn down a hill. Peaking through the trees, the ocean waves called out. The winds picked up and we found a small fishing village hidden between the tumbleweed.
We found our homestay, a beautiful set of houses on the beach. Each house surrounded by children of all sizes waiting for our arrival.
Their faces beamed and hands came up to hug or high five us. Happiness and joy surrounded us as we walked out into our first local Ghanian experience.
Four women awaited us and embraced everyone. They gave us a tour and then served a steaming hot dinner. We sat around wooden tables with a beautiful view of the beach and talked to our individual “mothers” like a family dinner of eight. My mother was Veronica.
She had big brown eyes and a shy smile. She told us she loved her job and meeting people from America. She spoke softly and said,
“My real dream though is to go to America.”
She continued then to plead for one of us to take her to America. I gave her my information and told her to come and stay at my house in Boston whenever she was able to.
That night we danced under the stars. The locals all came around us in a circle and beat drums and sticks, making a majestic rhythm.
Children from the village came to perform and watch. Kids ages six to ten appeared in traditional outfits and crowns. They started to dance with the gleam of the bonfire on the beach. There stomachs twisted and turned as they made aggressive, amazing movements. They pounded their fists in the air and created a story with their strong little bodies.
They took our hands and brought us into the circle and tried to teach us the dances. A failed attempt.
I stepped back and breathed in the sweet grass in the air, the hint of the burning bonfire, and felt the warm energy of the locals touch as they hugged up around me. I felt whole and one with the world. This was Ghana, an experience to never forget.
