It was a dusty custard room. No. It was a humid, dusty custard room. The room I found myself in miles away and hours ahead of everything I knew. Two things told me I had left Canada; one, six months of my life was crammed in a day pack beside me and two 11 o'clock at night in the pitch black a marching band practice was bombarding its way through the windows. Welcome to Ghana.
So much is unfamiliar and new to me now that I have definitely been lost in translation. From the first day a barrier was planted in front of me. I was left on one side with my English tongue as I watched so many approach the other side. Slowly I am trying to reduce this barrier to maybe a step. One of those slight lifts in elevation that you never notice, but always end up tripping over. Until then I do appreciate the enthusiasm of everyone to still talk to me when all I can really offer is my clueless face. And I'm sorry, but just because you keep repeating the words faster does not mean I will understand all of a sudden. All it really does is make my silence more awkward. For now communication is frustrating, laughable and getting better...
Due to the fact that I am "alone" in my little English bubble on my side of the wall the need to belong rose up quickly. It came up like a bubbling potion just about to suffocate me. This shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. Instantly grasping at the slightest things that may make it look like you get it when you never actually will. Slight use of the language, eating with your hands, catching a trotro, acting like you know where you are going and that this is all completely normal: all threads dangling to grasp at. It's like puking. You know it happens, what it feels like before it does and despite yourself it comes out. Appearing like something you can't control just sitting under your surface waiting for the moment you are on the outside. Letting you feel like you are on the inside where you can pass judgment on others who you think are now more outside than you. No one wants to not get the joke. Ghana is a joke I do not understand, but was desperately pretending I did. Two weeks wiser at this point I can accept that I don't belong, that I never will and that I don't need to. Some jokes you can just smile at.
