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.