I’ve been home for a week now. I guess you could say I had a bit of reverse culture shock. Surprisingly, I did jump back into the routine more easily than I had imagined. Sometimes I even feel like the last four months in Ghana were a dream—some distant fantasy in the back of slowly wakening mind.
It’s cliché but I was very much feeling bitter-sweet about my return home. Incredibly sad to be leaving the life that I had built in Ghana but excited to get home to the life I had put on pause. The night I left Ghana there was an intense downpour of rain. Friends who were all packed were relaxing watching the angry sky throw magnificent bolts of lightening. I, however, had no time to relax and reminisce. I spent most my last day getting my hair twisted and then rushing home to finish packing.
Sitting in the salon chair in the middle of the market as my hair was getting pulled every-which-way, I felt so incredibly odd. Odd because I could feel my valuable last moments in Ghana ticking away. Odd because I had a hundred things I needed to be doing but could only sit. Odd because I was forced to sit and think about leaving Ghana. Knowing that it might be my last day in Ghana for the rest of my life is immensely sad. But mark my words--whether it be in 5, 10, or 30 years—I will return.
My roommate Edna, Sharon, and Queenstar all helped me pack and with last minute things. I will really miss the three of them.
After goodbyes, Meagan and I shared a cab to the airport. Our driver’s car broke down after one block so he arranged another cab for us. He was a very nice guy and we know he told the cab driver to take us for the same price we agreed to pay him. However, after arriving at the airport the driver asked for more money then we had agreed on. ((By the way, the airport is an extremely intense place for foreigners; people are always trying to take advantage of the naïve traveler.)) Meagan and I refused to give him his extra money and then things got VERY HEATED. He grabbed Meagan’s arm and demanded we give him more money. We started yelling at him to never touch her. Then he took her bag as some sort of bargaining tool. We were both outraged! There were literally over 5 airport guards within 10 feet of us and none of them were doing anything! I grabbed the bag from him and told Meagan to go into the airport. I told the man to leave us alone, drive away and search for his remaining decency. We had lived in Ghana and we were not about to be taken advantage of.
We rubbed off the incident, though slightly traumatic. Our terminals were at different ends of the airport so we parted ways.
My flight route was from Accra, Ghana, to Frankfurt, Germany to Chicago to Milwaukee. My total travel time took over 30 hours. There was a delay in Frankfurt, which made me miss my connecting flight to Milwaukee from Chicago. I had a three hour layover which I passed sitting at the airport bar. Bad decision considering I missed that the terminal had changed and ultimately missed my second flight. They wait-listed me for another flight that left in a couple more hours. Thankfully, there was room and I was finally able to leave the damn O’hare airport.
During all the long hours at the airport I remember thinking how weird it was to be surrounded by people the same color as me. To put it frankly, I missed black people. I missed looking at their hair, their bright clothes, the way they moved so gracefully. I remember at the airport bar the CNN news was on the T.V. and they were talking about snowstorms sweeping across the states and recent bombings and murders. As I was watching the anchorwomen and all the bad news she was spilling out of her mouth, I remember I had a gut instinct to jump on the nearest plane that would bring me closer to Ghana.
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