Page 51 - Obruni In Ghana | Amber Lockridge

OBRUNI IN GHANA 49
with skin so pale the blood makes the tops of their fingers and ears pink.
I’ve been trying to appear the suave expert on Ghana by only glancing out the window with a show of vague boredom. But I still can’t help the thrill of excitement running up my spine. Africa. I feel a little transcendent with the thought. Northern Ghana makes Takoradi seem thoroughly Westernized. “Now,” I think to myself. “Now, I’m really experiencing Africa”. I can smell the red dust that has coated the surrounding vegetation like rust. Indeed, the kick-up from the road has coated my own fingers and face while my eyes itch constantly.
I would never reveal it to those in front of me, but the “vast” knowledge of my past 5 months in Ghana means almost nothing here. The language is different, Ewe or Dagbua instead of Akan, Twi, and Fanti. The prevalent religion is Islam, compared to ubiquitous Christianity in the south. Even the weather is different. The hot dry dust induces longing memories of my windy port city. I never