I am back in Ghana for the first time in 6 years. This is my second ever visit and it feels so different coming back. It's funny that coming here aged 18 I was really impressed by my country. I think being born and raised in the UK, my family back home expected me to be wholly underwhelmed. People hyped up Ghana's negatives in an attempt to make the country seem better to me than they had advertised it to be. It seemed to me to be a ploy. A rather perverse way to make me fall in love with my heritage.

This strategy was misguided to say the least. I was more than ready to love Ghana. Contrary to popular belief (in Ghana), many of us abrokyirefuo enkola are more than ready to embrace the country of our parents. It helps give a sense of identity when living in a country (like the UK) where people forever ask 'where are you really from?'.

This return journey however sees me in a much different mood. I'm in Accra for a few days (which to me equals me being lost! Being from a pure Kumasiano family--don't judge me :P) am I'm taking a better look than the fleeting glance of a few years back.

All of a sudden I am not so impressed. It's like looking at a beautiful picture with cracks in it. As I've grown older I think I have become more and more invested in being a Ghanaian. I am emotionally invested in our sport (as you can tell), politics, language and culture. But the more invested I am, the more pain I seem to feel. It's like watching a child with 'so much potential' hit 30...and all that they have achieved is the title of 'the former child with so much potential'.

Arguments that diasporian Ghanaians should come 'back home' and set to rights their country have always erked me. Firstly, because in many ways for people like me it is no more 'coming home' that it is for any random African-American. It's just not really home. You see, you can never mistake home, love it or hate it there are particular emotions linked to the idea of home that separate diasporians from our 'home-grown' counterparts. Secondly, I think it is somewhat disrespectful to barge in and take over what you don't know. Who am I as a diasporian to Waltz in and decide my way is better? There is much to be said for local knowledge. It's priceless.

Nonetheless, I feel disappointed somehow in Ghana. There is a lot to be done and I feel like the country has stagnated. But there is also much to be hopeful for. There is a generation emerging who want to make a change; I want to be a part of that somehow. I need to find my place in helping to get it all done.

Hey there everybody, I know it has been a long time since I have written anything BUT HEY I'm here now eh?

I know this song's been out for a while now in Ghana but I still love it. This debut song by yet another Tema hiplife artist, Nana Boroo is the perfect anthem for days like these when your long-awaited summer holiday has finally begun. There're a million and one languages going on in this song and the chorus is loosely translated as "here's where the fun is; everywhere else is dead". The World Cup is finally here people. GO BLACKSTARS! Yes Go England! Hope you enjoy!

This past week, just as I was feeling jealous that our American friends were enjoying yet another Thanksgiving without me, I was informed that Ghana, too , would be having a long weekend break. Alas initial enquiries on why Friday was a holiday only provided vague mutterings of "some kind of Muslim holiday". I eventually found out that we had a day off so Muslims could celebrate Eid al-Adha, otherwise known as "Festival of Sacrifice". The only Eid I'd heard of was Eid al-Fitr, which celebrates the end of Ramadan so this was new to me. My aunt and I were invited to spend the day at her Muslim cousin's house where we ate and drank far too much. Friends and relatives were in and out of the house the whole day wishing everybody a happy Eid (and to get some cash) and there was enough food to even satisfy Boris Bogtrotter.

On the surface, there's nothing special about this. However, I had never been in the company of Christians and Muslims with so little tension. Everywhere I went on Friday, people seemed happy and there was a festive air in general. Now I can probably chalk that up to people being happy at the prospect of a three-day weekend but it was cool nonetheless. I can't possibly imagine this happening in a "multicultural" city like London where we're constantly reminded everyday just how much Christians and Muslims don't  get along. My university was in East London, the heart of a predominantly South-Asian Muslim community, and to say tensions ran high would be a gross understatement. I only have to cast my mind back to the all the wahala the Danish cartoons of Mohammed caused. Therefore, since being in Ghana, I've really loved the way people seem to generally live and let live when it comes to religion.

Now I know us Christians can come in the overzealous types, determined to convert anybody and everybody, but I'm liking the way Muslims and Christians seem to get along side-by-side with minimal drama. Don't worry, I'm not living in fairy-land and I know it's not all roses and bunnies but a little tolerance goes a loooong way- on both sides. It'd be cool if I could dash some of that across the Atlantic.

(Also tried tubani for the first time. One word- delish! I think I could definitely give up meat and live the pescatorian life in GH. Lol)

Image translation: The picture is entitled "Eid's Paranoia". White sheep- "What do you think will happen to us this holiday?"Black sheep- "I hope, for God's sake, that we can run away and survive." (Very loose translation)


Image source

When we talk about our motherland, we tend to talk about her in the same way we talk about our family. In other words, I love her but she can be so annoying! And, oh yeah...if you're not one of Mother Ghana's children, don't even think about uttering a word against her! I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. In my last post entitled "Welcome to Ghana", I went on a rant on how erm...strange my experience was at Kotoka International. But trust me, now that I'm back, I am missing Ghana like crazy! So here is a list of ten really annoying things I had to endure in Ghana, but (not so secretly) wish I could enjoy in London.

Akwaaba! This is the word on every Ghanaian's lips as a display of how welcome you are in their territory. Touching down in Kotoka International Airport for the first time in ten years presented us with quite an unforgettable akwaaba experience.

Firstly, after ten hours on the plane - yes ten, not the promised six - the aeroplane's wheels finally hit Ghanaian soil, (note to self: Ghanaians are seldom on schedule) and we were ready to begin our holiday in the Gateway to Africa. Or were we?

What is a Ghanaianism? In my definition, a Ghanaianism is that peculiar thing, a way of thinking, a type of methodology which makes sense to nobody else except for Ghanaians. At Kotoka International, we were hit by an obstacle course of Ghanaianisms. Here goes...

Ghanaianism no. 1: Immigration. The immigration officers were catching a feeling off me and Keera. Yes I tell you, those officers get the first pick of women who enter the country. They greeted us with  "are you married?" while nonchalantly looking over our passports. I could be carrying Michael Jackson's passport for all they cared!

Ghanaianism no. 2: After immigration control, we were immediately faced with a big Akwaaba sign which also read, "Ghana does not welcome paedophiles and other sexual deviants". I learned right there and then that Ghanaians do not beat about the bush.

Ghanaiansm no. 3: Collecting our luggage from the circular conveyor belt was a task in itself. If I'm standing in a spot trying to get my bag, why cut in front of me without saying "excuse me" first, especially when your bag is nowhere near where I am standing? Silly me for thinking some politeness principles were universal! 

Ghanaianism no. 4: One word says it all. CUSTOMS. We were ordered to open our suitcases for inspection. "What are these things for?" we were asked.  "My family" responded I. "Are you sure?" Well, duh! Then he asks again, "what are these things for?" (By this time, I was getting mildly annoyed, but in hindsight, we did have the whole world and its mother in there. I'm talking suits, bags, tins of tuna, ipods etc. Note to self: if you are Ghanaian, NEVER EVER EVER tell your family you are travelling to Ghana. They will definitely make sure that all 46 kilos of your baggage allowance and your hand luggage is filled up!) Anyway, after being asked for the third time what the things in my suitcase were for, I 'fessed up, "half are gifts and the other half will be sold in my auntie's shop".  Ooops! "You have to pay duty then", he replied coolly. Really? I actually though he was joking. "Come on Keera, let's go". I later found out that Mr. Officer was far from joking, and had just let us go without paying out of good will.

Ghanaianism no. 5: Just when we thought escape to freedom could actually be a possibility, we were slapped by another obstacle in this long obstacle course. The next thing is the official border, which once crossed meant you were officially in the Republic of Ghana. Keera was able to step over the border - no questions asked. But me on the other hand, yes, you guessed it, was stopped. "You don't have baggage stickers on your suitcases" he offered. Well duh! They only got ripped off by Mr. Customs when he insisted on opening our suitcases!! (These stickers, which are put on your bags from London have a number. The same number is stuck onto your boarding pass, so when you arrive, the sticker helps to identify you with your bag.) I was pissed by this time. My general mindset was: Great! my light skinned friend gets authorisation to cross over. Well excuse me for having black skin! But it turned out that I got stopped because I was pushing the trolley stacked high with our suitcases, while Miss Yellow Skin was only carrying our two hand luggages. 

Ghanaianism no. 6: Last but not least, Ghanaianism no. 6 cracks me up the most. Imagine workers, not employed by the airport, but  self appointed, who busy themselves with loading your bags into your waiting car. I was wondering why they were being so helpful, until they said to us "tip us" (tr. pay us) Paaaahaaa!! talk about self employed! Well, needless to say, they quickly scuttled away when I replied "ask my uncle".

What can I say? after all this is Ghana, the Gateway to Africa!