Accra!

"This is Accra" Big says as we get closer to the more densely populated capital of Ghana. The sight is amazing. The major roads are paved and quite good. But as soon as you venture off to some direction, the city transforms itself into a dusty bush village with dirt roads and an intense buzz of people everywhere. Some are doing business. Selling og buying. Chickens are sold alive, but with a quick twist you are sure that they don´t run off after purchase.
There are no shops. Just vendors with baskets og boxes full of completely unfamilar items. I spot huge bananas in one and comment to Big that finally I know something. But alas, they are not bananas but plantane and with a very sinister and dramatic voice, he cautions me never to eat one raw. He is certain that they are poisonous and I promise never to do so. Which wasn´t a difficult promise to make.

At an intersection a women comes over and offers green oranges. Big buys 3 and the women quickly cuts of the outer peel in a spiral. He shows me how to sqeeze the orange over my mouth and drink the juice. It is heaven. I was thirsty and dusty and this did the trick.

Off to the side are beggars. Crippled people of different misfortunes. Big cautions again: "You must not give them money. If they don´t get any, they will return to their families. But if you give to them, they will learn that you benefit from degrading yourself. This is not honorable."
What wisdom in those words. I am speechless mostly because he does not seem stern, but says it with care and empathy in his voice.

It was my first lesson in the humanity of Ghana.

Arriving

It has been a long journey. Several connecting flights. Bit of stress. I really do not like flying. But now the end of the journey is here. The plane sets down on the runway and everything looks unfamiliar, yet strangely more inhabited than I imagined. I thought it was Africa - this is a busy international airport in Accra.

But as we leave the plane things a different after all. The moment the door to the aircraft opens a blazing heat hits me like a wall. It is quite humid too and soon I am gasping for air. I am also gasping out of awe.

Everybody´s pitch black. I have off course seen people of many different colours before. But the ghanaians are SO black. I know i have to look for Big. He is the older brother of Billy - a ghanaian i know from Denmark. But how am I going to recognize him here. They all look the same. And I am ready to turn around and board the plane again. How will I ever function here when I cant tell people apart. ust as panic sets in, Big grabs my arm. He off course had no problem finding me. Pale as a maggot and taller than most people I stand out like the Eiffel Tower.
I almost start crying. He is incredably kind and insist on staying with me untill I am in safe hands at the VOLU headquarters in central Accra. He makes sure I change one of my travellers cheques, so I am not stuck without money. He is SO kind and actually easy to recognize after all. He is truly owning up to his nickname. He is BIG. And he is bighearted. He makes arriving in Ghana a good thing.

I have arrived!

The rythm......

It seems that everything in Africa has rythm. The steady pulse of the incessant chatterof the women and children. The pounding of kasawa. The chopping of wood for fire.

It is a hum that seems to awaken in me once in a while. They sing a lot. While working, while cooking even when mourning the africans sing.To me it is the pulse of life. When I feel it I want to dance. I want to sing too. Sometimes I even want to cry.

Africa in my blood

It is never far away. The incessant pounding of Africa in my veins. The calling of my name. In Ghana I am Enije.

I can hear the women humming, chanting under their breath while they are working in the bush. We are making a clearing for the new clinic. The mood is elated and we are all hopefull. The work has started on our project, the long awaited building of the clinic. We are two europeans and a few volunteers from Accra. Allready it is obvious that we are given a special status, not because we are europeans or white, but because we have come from so far away to join in their work. One woman ponders over how we can travel so far. Who looks after our children? In Ghana I would allready have been the mother of many children at my age. I smile. My mama, I say, not wanting to upset the woman. She understands and nods in approval. It makes sense.

There a bit of an upheavel at the other side of the clearing. The men clearing the ruffage there is calling me over to see. They have killed an enormous scorpion. It is black with a velvety green shine. Beautiful indeed. But the villagers are wary, they cerimoniously push the dead invertebrae to the side of the road whilst telling dramatic stories of previous encounters that ended deadly. Part of me is awed by the destructive bush, another is sceptic as to the lethality of the wildlife. They are big admittedly, but still - i wonder if it cannot be that the fear is bigger than the actual risk.

Nevertheless the villagers love the drama and the intensity and i love them for it.